Paint it Black
by Queen of Crystallopia
Summary: The Avengers are broken and scattered across the globe after the events of Civil War. But when Peter Parker is taken by the very worst of humanity, Tony Stark will do whatever it takes to get him back, even if it means hunting down former friends and enemies to do it.
1. Bad Company

**A/N: Set after the events of Homecoming and before Infinity War. This story will be told from several POVs from different characters, so I hope you guys enjoy!**

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 **Chapter One: Peter Parker**

"I think MJ likes you."

I shoot Ned a sharp look, heat rising to my cheeks against my will. "What?"

"I think she likes you. You know, _likes_ you likes you."

"I heard what you said. Why are you saying it?"

Ned opens his mouth to reply but trips over the uneven sidewalk. My hand shoots out automatically to grip his upper arm, steadying him before he face plants. He sends me a grateful look and adjusts the straps of his backpack.

"Dude, she watches you, like all the time. And sketches you. And talks about you when you aren't around. Either she's planning on stalking and killing you, or she likes you," Ned nods to himself, like he has solved some great mystery.

I open my mouth to reply, then close it again, trying to will the flush on my skin away. I choose not to examine the fluttering of nerves in my stomach at his words, or the way I stand up straighter like I am pleased with myself.

Because MJ and I are just friends, right? And Ned, he's probably wrong. There's no way she likes me. She's just eccentric. I'm sure she sketches lots of boys from our high school.

I also choose not to examine the sour taste that thought leaves in my mouth.

"Peter, you're blushing."

"I am not!" I protest immediately as we pause before a busy intersection with a small group of people already gathered waiting for the light so they can cross the street. Ned is grinning at me, and I scowl as I deny again. "I'm not. It's just hot."

Ned laughs. "You should ask her out."

"Dude! I'm not- she's just-I don't know if-can we just drop this, please?"

God, even my ears feel warm.

"Ok, ok," Ned relents as the crosswalk light changes, and we head across the street. "I'll drop it for now. But I still think you should ask her out."

We reach the sidewalk, and this is where our paths diverge. Ned waves as he turns right, calling back that he will text me later so we can compare notes on our essay for English. I wave back and continue down the busy street.

I wonder where Michelle lives. She probably walks home by herself. The thought doesn't sit well with me. I should figure out her route and swing by as Spiderman sometime, just to make sure she makes it home alright, that the area is safe enough. Wait, that's not creepy, right? That wouldn't be stalking, just following, wouldn't it? There's a difference.

I'm so lost in thought, I nearly knock into someone. At the last second, I jerk to a halt, then step aside. "Sorry," I say quickly, then look up, my eyes widening slightly.

Woah. This guy is _huge_. Even his dark, baggy street clothes can't conceal the large muscles or hulking stature. His eyes bore into me as I side step him, thankful that I didn't actually run into him and give him an excuse to pummel me. "Sorry," I say again lamely, and continue on my way.

I can't help but glance behind me as I do so, and the man is still watching me.

Okay, that wasn't creepy at all.

My stomach growls suddenly, and I think wistfully of Mr. Delmar's new deli, which is unfortunately relocated, and nowhere near my usual way home. Instead, I've been forced to get my after school pick-me-up at Jeff's subs, which doesn't compare at all.

Something tingles at the base of my skull, sending a prickle of unease to my growling stomach. I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing at attention, and I know that something is wrong. I glance around as I walk, but I see no immediate danger, no out of control car, no one getting mugged, not even anyone yelling at each other to get out of the way.

My brow furrows, and I tighten my grip on the strap of my backpack.

The unsettled feeling doesn't leave, and my senses are telling me that something is _off_. I can feel it, but can't pinpoint it. I would brush it off as nothing, but that sense has never failed me before.

I pick up my pace slightly, checking every face that passes me for any sign of trouble.

That's when I realize someone is keeping pace with me across the street.

I glance over at him, thinking it's probably nothing, that I am being paranoid, but the ordinary looking man seems to be watching me out of the corner of his eye. Frowning, I slow my pace ever so slightly.

My stomach tightens as the man does the same.

 _No way_.

I pause, crouching to pretend to adjust my shoe, as the people walking behind me grumble and curse at the sudden teenage obstacle they have to walk around.

The man stops in front of a newsstand across the street, picking up and perusing one of the tabloids.

What the _hell_? Why is this guy following me? What does he want? Is he waiting for a quiet street to mug me, thinking I'll be an easy target?

I straighten, turning my head to look over my shoulder, and my unease increases in a sharp stab of what might be panic. The huge stranger I had almost run into was leaning against one of the store fronts, smoking, his eyes watching me.

Not good. Not good at all.

I school my expression into one of bored indifference, pretending to adjust my sweatshirt before continuing. Quickening my steps, I reach into my pocket and slide out my phone. Another crosswalk looms in front of me, but I don't want to stop moving, so instead I turn right as I dial and place the phone to my ear, suddenly conscious of every single person around me.

My heart begins to thud heavily in my chest as the dial tone rings and rings again. "Come on, pick up," I mutter into the phone. I am moving now at a fast walk, just shy of jogging, and I glance behind me to see the huge, burly guy turn the corner.

The phone clicks, and my heart leaps, but it goes to voicemail. "H-hey, Mr. Stark," I say into the phone, keeping my voice low. "I'm sorry to bother you, I mean, I know you are probably busy. But…but I think…I think I'm being followed. And they don't really look like your typical New Yorkers looking for an easy hit…It might be nothing, I can probably handle it, but I-"

A man in dark clothing just ahead, walking in the opposite direction as me, also has a phone to his ear, and his icy blue eyes are staring straight at me. _Shit, shit, shit._ The guy across the street is still keeping pace, and he isn't even bothering to pretend that he isn't following me.

"Shit," I say aloud as the voicemail ends and the line goes dead.

The man ahead of me, coming closer with every step is speaking into his cell phone, and my enhanced hearing picks up his words over the clatter and noise from the streets of Queens.

"Target in route. We are ready to engage."

The sound of screeching tires tears through the air, followed quickly by shouts and honking horns. The prickle of warning at the base of my neck shoots into a burning flare, and in my peripheral vision, I see a huge black van veering straight towards me.

My eyes lock onto the man's in front of me, both of us tensing as we prepare to act. He reaches in his jacket, dropping his phone, and my muscles coil, ready to bolt. The man stumbles forward suddenly, knocked off balance by a disgruntled old lady in a motorized cart.

When he looks up, I am already gone.

"Excuse me, sorry, coming through!" I apologize as I shove my way past a throng of people crowded at the next intersection.

"Hey, watch it!" someone shouts after me, but I am already bolting across the street. Cars slam to a halt, horns blaring, tires squealing, as they barely avoid hitting me. My body warns me just in time as a yellow taxi cab brakes too late, and I leap into the air, placing one hand on the hood of the car as I slide across the slick metal.

I risk a quick glance over my shoulder, and sure enough, all three of the men watching me are now racing behind with deadly intent. The black van has almost caught up with me, the windows tinted so I can't tell how many men are inside.

Ok, new plan.

I turn down an alley, my sneakers pounding loudly against the cement as I pick up speed. Footsteps pound behind me, and I whirl, kicking out at one of the large dumpsters against the wall. Metal screeches as it slides across the cement to slam into the closest pursuer and blocks the paths of the two behind him.

I am running again, jumping when I am close enough, my hands gripping the top of the chain link fence as I propel myself over it. I land lightly, racing for the opposite end of the alley and the street beyond it, when the black van slams to a halt, cutting off my exit.

Crap.

Not slowing down in the slightest, I ram my shoulder into the locked door on my left and stumble inside. I have seconds to take in the food covered shelves towering all around me as I run, and then I am bursting into a bustling kitchen, steam rising from pots and pans on shiny metal appliances and countertops.

A cook whirls, his face shocked and his hands full of just plated entrees, and I am forced to duck before twisting to the side to narrowly avoid knocking into another one.

"Sorry!" I exclaim as I sidle past them and keep running. "Smells really good!"

Their yells chase after me as I tear through the crowded restaurant, calling out more apologies as I go. Sunlight blooms across my face as I make it out the door, pausing for a moment even though I can hear sounds of pursuit coming from the restaurant behind me.

There are more dark attired men sprinting towards me at my left, so I bolt towards my right, my heart racing in time to my frantic footsteps.

Who the hell were these guys? How many were there? And what the heck did they want from me?

The dark clothes, scowling faces, and general unattractiveness of the bunch has me leaning towards bad guys. Definitely bad guys. And I decide I really didn't want to find out what they want with me.

I narrowly avoid smashing into a kid on a skateboard by spinning to the side, then quickly have leap over someone who suddenly bends to tie their shoe.

 _Figures_ , I think as I leap frog over them, ignoring their cry of outrage.

I am running so fast that wind is roaring in my ears and making my eyes water. I am running faster than I probably should be, but in this moment, I don't care. All I care about is getting away from these guys.

I see the upcoming busy intersection, and the light suddenly turns green in the direction I am running. A very expensive, brand new looking silver Porsche is revving its engine before taking off before the other drivers can even register the light change.

Seeing my opportunity, I put on a fresh burst of speed, my steps pounding on the sidewalk, then the asphalt, and then I am at the rear of the car. I reach out, my fingertips latching onto the rear headlights, and I am suddenly, immensely grateful for my spider like ability to stick to things.

I pull myself onto the roof of the moving vehicle just as it accelerates. Crouching low, the harsh wind ruffling my hair, I glance back. Five of them are still racing on foot to catch up, a few of them pressing hands to their ears and saying something I am too far away to hear.

One of the black vans is snaking through traffic towards me, nearly sending a minivan careening into the populated sidewalk. The wail of police sirens sounds off in the distance.

I can see people pointing at me from where I am crouched on the Porsche, and the speeding driver makes a sharp, sudden left turn. If it wasn't for my superhuman grip on the roof of the car, it would have sent me flying off into the street.

As soon as the car straightens, I roll off of it, somersaulting the moment I hit the unforgiving asphalt and using the momentum to shoot to my feet and sprint down another alleyway. If I am lucky, the driver's sharp turn took me out of sight for a moment before they could notice me slipping down here.

However, I am rarely lucky, and it won't take them long at all to realize I am no longer on the car, and double back to check the area.

So I jump up, my fingers catching on the bottom rung of the nearest fire escape, and pull myself up. The police sirens are getting closer, louder, but I ignore them as I forgo using the actual stairs and instead leap and clamber up the rails and poles framing the fire escape. In seconds, I am on the roof.

I head to the far side, keeping low to the ground just in case. To my right is the access door leading into the apartment complex I've just climbed atop of, and just ahead are countless large air conditioning and heating units, as well as an array of different sized satellites.

I skid to a halt just behind them and lower myself to the ground, sliding my backpack off my shoulders and pressing my body behind one of the larger a.c. units, which is thrumming loudly.

It's difficult to catch my breath, and I suddenly become aware of a massive stitch in my side. Over the din of the air conditioning units, I can hear voices, and I shrink, hugging my backpack to my chest and trying to make my body as small as possible.

I peek around the corner just as two men burst through the access door onto the roof, guns in hand. I jerk back behind my hiding place and clamp a hand over my mouth, trying to stifle the heavy breaths coming from my heaving chest. My heart is pounding so loudly, I am sure they can hear it.

Slow seconds crawl by as I wait for them to discover where I am hidden.

"Damn it," one of them swears loudly, making me flinch. "We've lost him."

"He must have doubled back. Come on," the second orders in a heavily German accented voice.

Then they are gone.

My shoulders slump as I let out a long sigh of relief. Sweat beads across my forehead, and I can feel it also trickling down my back. I let my backpack drop to the ground.

A sudden vibration in my pocket makes me jump out of my skin, and I nearly yelp in surprise before I realize it is my phone. My shaking fingers fumble for it, nearly dropping my cell several times before I see the name on the call screen. Tony Stark.

Thank God.

"Mr. Stark," I breathe into the phone, my relief palpable. I keep my voice as soft as I can make it, in case there are more of those guys nearby.

"What the hell is going on? This better not be some kind of rebellious teenage prank to get my attention, because if it is, and I stepped out of that meeting for nothing, I'm going to have Happy ground you."

"It's not!" I blurt. "I promise, it's not. I think I'm in trouble."

There's a slight pause before he finally replies, "Where are you?"

"The rooftop…corner of 56th and 137th I think," I am panting slightly. "Mr. Stark, it was the craziest thing! These guys, they started chasing me-well first I almost ran into one, but then I realized the dude across the street was watching me, and then there was the guy on the phone and the black van, and I was running, but there were so many of them and I-"

"Do me a favor. Take a breath, swallow some of that word vomit, and when you can speak in a decimal meant for human ears, you can continue, okay?" Tony interrupts. I can hear something muffled in the background. An engine?

"Yeah. Yeah, ok," I take a few breaths, glancing around me for any sign of my pursuers. There are none.

"Who were these guys? Did you get a good look at them? Any identification or insignias? A name on that van?"

"No," I admit. "No, there was nothing. Just all dressed in dark clothing."

"Well that narrows it down, doesn't it? How many are there?"

"Um…" I try to count them off in my head. "I don't know. A dozen maybe? At least two vans, but I don't know, there could have been more."

"Hang tight kid, and stay low. I'm on my way."

Despite myself, I am utterly relieved by those words. It's embarrassing, calling Iron-man for help, but I definitely feel out of my league here. And besides, it isn't Spiderman asking for assistance, it's Peter Parker.

"Ok. Yeah, I'll be here. Don't worry though. I think…I think I lost them."

"Think again."

Warning flares inside me a second before the deep, rumbling voice speaks from right behind me, and I lunge forward, dropping the phone and rolling to my feet.

It is the huge guy, the one I first almost ran into on the street. I hadn't heard him approach thanks the din of the a.c. units and my complete distraction talking to Mr. Stark on the phone.

My eyes are wide as I take in the stature of the man that his dark clothes can't hide. Holy shit, even his muscles have muscles. I raise up my hands in a placating gesture, taking a step back as he raises his weapon.

"Woah, woah, take it easy!" I say quickly. "Look I don't know what I did, but if this is about skipping school last Friday, or pirating that one copy of the new Star Wars movie, I'm really sorry. And I promise it won't happen again."

The guy's face doesn't even twitch as he pulls the trigger.

I drop to the ground as the sound of the gunshot rips through the air, and with it the feeling of something ruffling through my hair before it slams into the stone ridge behind me. "Can't we talk about this?"

He fires again, but I am already moving, rolling across the ground and taking cover behind one of the larger satellites. "I guess not," I pant, listening intently and counting his approaching footsteps. I glance back at where he'd shot at me, and see small tranquilizer darts in the half wall and ground where I'd been seconds before.

I'm not sure if it's a plus or not that they plan on taking me alive.

"Come out, little spider, and I promise I won't hurt you."

My stomach sinks at his words. Not good. Definitely not good. Whoever these guys were, they knew I was Spiderman. Well, I think to myself, at least I won't have to pull my punches.

I wait until he is mere feet away from the satellite before I leap up, gripping the top of the metal disk and flipping myself into the air. I land with my hands on his broad shoulders, and using the momentum as my feet hit the ground, I flip my attacker right over my head. His body slams into the satellite I was hiding behind, and his gun clatters to the ground.

I hurry to kick it across the rooftop and leap back as his hand shoots forward to seize my ankle. He's on his feet faster than I expect, baring his teeth as he lunges for me.

Oh man, he looks _pissed_.

I dodge his first two punches easily, and catch his third one in my right hand, yanking him forward and off balance for my left fist to smash into the side of his head. The man grunts, stumbles, but doesn't fall, so I put all my weight on my back leg and slam my knee up into his chest.

He's ready for it this time, and catches my leg in his massive hands. With a growl he shoves me backwards, and in an unexpectedly swift move, faster than I can react as I try to regain my balance, his fist slams into my face.

Stars erupt in my darkening vision as my head jerks back from the blow, and my body crashes onto the rooftop. Agony laces through my forehead, my skull, but I hurry to blink away the gray spots as I feel him on top of me, pinning me to the ground, a heavy hand on my chest.

My arms automatically shoot out, gripping his jacket as I prepare to flip him off of me. My vision clears for a split second, and my eyes catch on the small, dark emblem on his jacket just above his heart; a skull, with six tentacle looking things just beneath it, and my blood runs cold.

I know that symbol. Know it, because Ned and I had recently stumbled upon the files released by the Black Widow and Captain America three years ago, when S.H.I.E.L.D. went down.

My attacker is reaching for something on his belt with his free hand, and I snap back into the moment with renewed intensity. I seize the arm pinning me down, and use it to stabilize myself as I pull my knees to my chest and kick out towards where he is hovering above me.

His body shoots backwards with another pained grunt, and I am already on my feet, stumbling slightly as pain shoots through my head at the sudden movement. I lean over him, grabbing fistfuls of his jacket as I punch his face with my right hand. I draw my fist back to deliver a blow that will render him unconscious when it happens.

Something sharp stabs into my neck. My head snaps to the left, my eyes widening at the sight of another Hydra agent standing by the wide open access door, his gun aimed straight at me.

Which means that the stinging in my neck…

" _Crap_ ," I mutter as numbness begins to spread across my neck and down my shoulder, and I am immediately light headed.

There will be no getting out of this, no more running. I am caught, and I don't think Iron-man will make it in time to help. The rooftop beneath the soles of my converse is swaying and undulating, and the edges of my vision are beginning to darken.

I drop to my knees, my grip on the huge guy's jacket the only thing grounding me. With the last of my senses, I bow over the groaning man and rip the insignia from the dark material to snag it in the vents of the nearby a.c. unit.

He seems to come to his senses then and shoves me harshly backwards.

I can't tell what is up and what is down, everything is spinning so violently. I am on my back now, gazing up at the sky, at the too bright sun sending more stabs of pain into my head.

"Target is down," a voice says from somewhere to my left. At least, I think it's my left.

I am close to passing out, my rapid heartbeat beginning to slow to a sluggish pace. I am terrified as whatever drug I've been injected with tries to drag me down into darkness, terrified of what is going to happen to me now.

I can only hope that the clue I left for Tony will remain unnoticed.

That is my last thought before my eyes are rolling back into my skull, and I know no more.

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 **HUGE thanks to PippinStrange for being such an amazing beta! Your encouragement and support mean a lot! :)**


	2. Walk this Way

**This story deviates just slightly from the end of Civil War. Captain America has not rescued his teammates from the Raft, and did not leave Tony the phone and letter. He still went to Wakanda, Bucky still went into cryo-sleep, but Steve is working on plans to get the rest of his team free while he is in hiding. I did it this way to create more tension and hopefully add to the story and resolve it my own way. :) I hope you guys enjoy!**

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 **Chapter Two: Steve Rogers**

" _Posso servi lo em algo mais_?"

I look up at the pretty young waitress, the sun's glow illuminating her golden skin and rich, dark hair.

" _Não obrigado_ , Lara," I reply with a small smile.

Lara returns it, her eyes lingering a little too long before she turns and heads back to the counter of the cafe.

I hold the steaming cup in the palm of my hand and gaze out at the sparkling blue ocean waters in the distance. It's a mistake, coming here as often as I do, but I can't seem to stay away. I've developed a liking for their cappucinos, and there is no beating the view the cliffside cafe offers.

I sip at the coffee, grateful for the covered overhang blocking the unforgiving sun's rays. Boats drift lazily across the water's surface, small enough from this distance that they look like toys.

Sometimes I feel as adrift as they look in the unending ocean.

It's a dramatic thought, and a poetic one. I know if any of my old colleagues heard it, they'd give me flack for weeks. Especially Tony. And Natasha.

Something in my heart clenches as it always does when I think of them. God, I wish Nat was here with me. She'd no doubt make some comment about the small cup, ask if any of the local girls here in Salvador have caught my eye, then tell me to get off my ass and get back to work. Or maybe she would mock my terrible portugese and show me how it's supposed to be done.

A small smile curves my lips at the thought.

The truth is, I've been working since I first got to Brazil, putting things into play and tracking down the right people. I may have put Captain America far behind me, but I haven't forgotten my friends, injustly imprisoned after I had called them to fight. I am going to do whatever it takes to get them out of there.

It is just taking much longer than I had anticipated. The guilt is nearly crushing as I stare out at the view with my coffee, when my teammates get to stare at white walls.

It's a good thing I don't just come here for the scenery.

I also have a great view of the streets below, and it happens to be the perfect vantage point to see all the vehicles that come and go. In particular, an unobscure blue honda civic belonging to one Joe Greller,a former associate of General Thaddeus Ross.

I am about to take another sip of my cappucino when screams rip through the normally serene cafe. My head whips to the side, and I am already moving before I even register the sight before me, my small cappucino cup clattering to the table.

Two men clad in black hoodies, cheap masks covering their faces, are waving guns around and yelling in portugese. My fists clench so hard my knuckles crack.

They picked the wrong cafe.

I step forward while all the other guests cower beneath their tables. One of the men points his gun towards me, shouting, " _Ei! Abaixe-se! Abaixe-se_!"

The cafe is small, and I am close enough I know I can take them down before they can fire off a single shot.

That's when the other man seizes Lara by the hair and yanks her to her feet. I freeze as she screams, the man using her as a human shield as he aims his gun right at me.

" _Deixe ela ir,_ " I order them, my voice full of deadly promise.

Then the air is filled with gunshots. I dive to the ground, my head jerking up in time to see both fleeing out the door of the café, a screaming Lara in tow.

I glance at the patrons around me, all crying and terrified, but unharmed. I am on my feet in an instant, tearing out of the café in time to see the men shoving Lara into a battered van. One leans out the window as the vehicle accelerates suddenly and begins firing. I duck back in the doorway to take cover, but the moment the gunshots cease I am running.

I have become very familiar with the streets of Salvador during my time here, the close, multicolored buildings easy to mark and remember. I tear down these streets, and after weeks of hiding in plain sight, I let myself run as fast as my superhuman abilities will let me. I cut down a side street, and in no time I am catching up to the van.

The moment I get close, I jump forward, grabbing onto the back and hanging there while the driver accelerates. I hear shouting, then the van begins to swerve erratically. My teeth clench as my grip on the van tightens. The driver makes a sharp turn, and the momentum is enough to for me to lose my grip. I roll as I land on the hard cobblestones, and before I can get on my feet, a shower of bullets rains down around me.

I duck for cover behind the closest building, cursing. This is getting out of hand.

I race down the street the moment it is clear, and even though I moved quickly, the van is nowhere in sight. Taking in what I knew about these streets and the buildings around them, I am forced to make a guess. These guys are looking for a place to hide, and I have a feeling I know where they will go.

My heart is racing as I finally turn down the quiet street. The buildings here are abandoned, unused, and in total disrepair, one of the most un-populated areas in Salvador. It's a perfect place to take shelter and hide a hostage.

Sure enough, there's the van, parked discreetly in an alley.

My eyes narrow, my fists tightening as I move stealthily towards the building to the right of it, the blue paint chipped and peeling from the walls. I pause near a boarded up window, my ears straining for any noise.

There's nothing. Not a woman's cries, no whispered threats, or tense arguing.

I frown. Maybe they'd taken shelter in one of the other buildings, parking the van here to trick me in the wrong direction.

Something rustles softly inside, and I tense.

Or maybe these guys are smart enough to be quiet, and threatening enough to ensure Lara remains silent as well. Anger makes my blood boil and fists clench.

I inch around the back of the building, finding another boarded up window with a gap big enough for me to just ease through. A quick glance proves the room to be empty, nothing but an overturned table and two broken chairs amid the debris.

I slip inside, landing silently on my feet, and stay close to the walls as I edge across the room. I peer around the corner just in time to see one of the men jump out of the window in the next room, and I rush forward, tearing across the room in seconds, ready to end the chase and save Lara.

There's a slow clap behind me, and I tense.

"Wow. You can take the hero out of America, but you just can't take America out of the hero, can you?"

God _damn_ it.

I turn, my eyes narrowing. "Staging a kidnapping? Really?"

Tony Stark doesn't even get up from his damn chair. He raises his hands as if to say, _what do you expect?_

"I had to find some way to get you out of your hidey-hole, Cap. That's quite the look you have going for you; the beard, the longer hair. It's very…I wanna say, lumber-sexual? Is that the phrase? Very woodsy. I bet the ladies approve."

"How much did you pay them?" I ask, ignoring his comments.

"More than they deserved," Tony replies easily. "Although the cute waitress deserved every penny for that stunning performance she gave. Definitely Oscar worthy. _Surpreendente_."

Some things never change. He still loves the sound of his own voice. "What the hell do you want, Stark?"

"Last names, huh? Is that how it is?" he stands from his chair, adjusting his jacket. "Alright, _Rogers_ , you and I need to have a little chat."

"You and I? Or is it the government and me that need to talk?"

"Jesus, Steve, it's just me."

"Sorry if I find that a little hard to believe after what you've done."

"You really want to start comparing notes on that front?" Tony's tone, his entire stance, has changed. He is rigid, his face strained, and the man has seemed to age considerably since we were last face to face. His usually groomed and styled appearance is in minor disarray. I tilt my head slightly, trying to get a read on him, and I realize something with a wash of unease.

Something is seriously wrong.

It has to be, for the arrogant billionaire to let it show even the slightest bit how ragged he feels. It has to be, because somehow he had hunted me down even when governments all over the world had failed to do so.

"What's going on?" I ask solemnly. A million scenarios are running through my mind, and I feel a prick of anxiety in my gut. What had happened? Who had it happened to? What would make Tony Stark so desperate, he would come to me?

"I need your help," Tony admits. "You know I wouldn't be here unless I absolutely had to be."

"Can't Ross and his team help?" I ask, unable to keep the bite from my tone.

Tony's face darkens. "If they could, would I be standing in this shit hole with you?"

Fair point.

"Tell me."

"They took the kid."

I blink at him. "What kid?"

Tony sighs, the sound unbearably weary, and runs a hand over his face. "The kid I brought to Germany. You know, about yea-high, overeager, with a tendency for pilfering patriotic Frisbees? Any of this ringing a bell?"

Of course it does. I knew he had sounded young, that kid from Queens that Tony had idiotically recruited for a fight that had nothing to do with him. I wonder how young. I frowned. "Who took him?"

"See that's why I need your help, Cap. You know them better than anyone else, or at least longer than everyone else."

Ice freezes in my veins, and I know what he is about to say just before he does.

"Hydra."

"Hydra," Tony confirms, and I've never seen him so shaken. "They took him right off the streets, and I have exhausted every single resource I have, and some I don't to try and get a lead, to get anything. But they are entirely off the grid."

"How long?"

"Thirty eight hours ago."

"Should I be insulted or impressed that you found me so quickly?"

"Let's go with the latter and get back to the point, shall we? I'm out of ideas on how to find them, and they could be doing anything to him by now."

We share a look, both of us thinking of the same thing, or rather, the same person. "They knew he was Spiderman? How?"

"I don't know. I have no _fucking_ clue," Tony runs his hand through his hair, starting to look entirely unhinged. I've never seen him this way, not in this severity. His relationship with the kid is obviously stronger than I had suspected. "One minute I get a message that he thinks he's being followed, and when I finally get a hold of him he's running for his life down the streets of New York. By the time I got there, it was too late."

His eyes are haunted. " _I_ was too late, and they got him. At least they were considerate enough to leave a calling card."

Tony hands me a ripped handful of thick, black cloth, stamped with the image of a skull with six curling tendrils beneath it. "Although I think that may have been the efforts of our friendly neighborhood Spiderman when he realized he was caught."

"Jesus," I breathe, staring down at it. Whatever remained of Hydra must be truly desperate to abduct a teenager off the streets in broad daylight, a teenager under the protection of Tony Stark, no less. What's even more troubling is how the hell they found out who he was.

"None of your files were hacked?" I ask finally, crushing the material in my curling fist.

"Please, don't insult me. I've scoured everything, and there's not a trace of any hacker. Either they are better than I am, which is impossible, or they found out some other way."

Tony glances at his watch. "I'd love to keep discussing this more, but if we are all going to have any hope of getting the kid back in one piece, we need to leave about yesterday."

My brow furrows. "All?"

Tony levels a look at me. "I will do everything, _everything_ in my power to save that kid. He's my responsibility. And there's only one other person who knows Hydra like you, maybe even better."

There's movement in the doorway, and my head whips in that direction as Bucky, wearing a cap and large jacket to conceal his shiny metal arm, steps into the room.

I can't speak for a moment, I am that floored. Finally, I look at Tony, not bothering to hide my shock. His jaw is set, his eyes fierce, and he opens his mouth to speak. "Are you with us, or not?"

I glance back at Bucky, who gives me a nod, his expression grave and intense, then straighten my back and gaze at Tony. "I'm with you. Let's go get the kid."

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you SO much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! They always inspire me to write more so it is very appreciated! I was nervous at first about writing from so many perspectives, but I am getting a lot more comfortable with it now! Expect quite a few for this story! ;) SUPER excited about where this story is going, and I can't wait for you guys to find out what's going to happen.**

 **And I do not speak Portugese, so if any of it is incorrect, blame Google Translator. lol.**

 **Fun fact! That cafe Steve goes to actually exists! The Cafelier in Salvador, Brazil. I found it while researching and it looks gorgeous!**

 **As always, a massive thank you goes out to the wonderful PippinStrange for being my beta/fan girl. You da bomb. ;)**

 **Please let me know what you guys think! I will try and update again soon!**


	3. Dream on

**A/N: HUGE thanks to everyone who took the time to review and favorite or follow my story! It really means the world to me and is totally inspiring me to write more and write fast! This chapter features TWO POV's!**

* * *

 **Chapter Three** : **Natasha Romanov**

 _Always so dramatic._

I watch the footage playing live in the quaint, little café as Rogers charges after the pretty brunette being dragged away. A smirk curves my lips. _Predictable, Rogers._ _Very predictable_.

Then again, so is Stark. Of course his plan would turn into a full production, screaming damsel in distress included. I would have just slipped into the seat beside Steve and made him buy me a cup of coffee.

But I am not the one in charge of this operation.

I'm just here to make sure it goes smoothly.

Another cam shows Rogers and Stark finally having a little heart to heart, though I know because of time constraints, they won't be able to talk long. "That's your cue, big guy," I say without looking over at Barnes.

Silently, the man makes his way out of the jet in case Steve needs extra incentive. I told Stark it wouldn't be necessary. The moment Rogers hears about Hydra kidnapping a kid, he will agree to help, no matter what happened between all of us in the past.

But again, Stark has that flair for theatrics, and had told me that he'd learned to always have insurance.

I take a deep breath, straightening my spine and reaching across the console before me to start the jet. My fingers flip three switches to start the thrusters, and quickly make sure the cloaking reflectors lining the outside of the jet are still engaged.

Placing a hand to my earpiece I say, "Time's a-wasting boys."

"Just get that bird ready to fly, Romanov. We're on our way back to you."

"One step ahead of you, boss."

Moments later I am lowering the ramp, and the moment I hear three sets of footsteps clinking on the metal surface, I pull back on the control wheel to lift the jet into the air.

None of them are speaking, I notice as I close the ramp again and set the jet onto autopilot so Stark can take over in a moment. I swivel in my chair and stand, giving a small smile as I saunter towards a rather stunned looking Rogers.

"You look surprised to see me," I say with a raised brow.

His eyes roam across me before he finally returns the smile and says, "Just a bit. Nice hair."

I run my fingers through my pale blonde locks. "Nice beard."

"Yes, and I have a nice _ass_. Are we ready to get to work now?" Stark says as he brushes past us.

"Just like old times," I give Steve an exasperated look as I turn towards the main console in the center of the jet, where Tony is pulling up a myriad of screens and maps.

"Not quite," Rogers disagrees as he glances between everyone.

As I move closer to the screens, Stark's eyes meet mine, and he nods. "Get him up to date, but make it fast," he orders before striding for the cockpit.

"I've been tracking Hydra's movements for the last seven months," I start, turning to face Steve. "Let's call it a side project. Up until recently, they've been laying low. Outing them from S.H.I.E.L.D., wiping out most of their bases, and destroying what remained of their super soldier program were heavy blows, and it took them awhile to recover."

Steve steps closer, his blue eyes serious and mouth tight as he scans the holographic images.

"This," I gesture towards a specific file, featuring a silver haired man in a lab coat. "Is Doctor Heinrich Muller, one of their current lead scientists. Unfortunately, we don't know much about him, other than he assisted in the super soldier project and specializes in genetic mutation. Hydra keeps him close, and doesn't move him often ever since Strucker and Dr. List were killed in Sokovia."

"But you think he has something to do with the kid's disappearance?" Steve asks, looking now at me.

I nod. "I do. Hydra was somehow able to discern Spiderman's identity, but instead of using that information and sending an assassin or revealing it to the world, they took him. Why?"

"Because they think they can use him," Barnes speaks for the first time, and our eyes turn to him. His face is grim, haunted. "The kid managed to acquire superhuman abilities without the use of one of their serums. It was bound to catch their attention."

"And now they want to know how," Steve finishes. "You think Muller is the guy to figure it out?"

"Through whatever means necessary," I affirm with a frown. "My intel shows that no one has even seen this guy in years, and suddenly he's back on the radar at the same time Spiderman is kidnapped as a civilian. And I don't believe in coincidences."

I turn to swipe back the files and pull up a 3D map of Russia. Using my hands to zoom in, I choose to ignore how the others tense as I pass over Siberia and move the map until it highlights just the Kamchatka peninsula. "Surveillance caught him at the Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky airport in Yelizovo, here."

With a deft twist of my fingers, the city is highlighted, and the photo hovers just above the map. I can feel Tony's hard stare as Barnes and Rogers step closer to the map.

"This area is extremely geologically active, making it unstable, remote, and a massive power source. All just the right ingredients for a Hydra base, wouldn't you say? That's where you boys come in," I fold my arms across my chest. "You two know Hydra better than anyone, you know where they've located their bases in the past, you know how they work. We need you to narrow it down. Time is definitely not on our side."

"Is it ever?" murmurs Steve as he exchanges a look with Barnes.

The Winter Soldier's gray blue eyes scan the mountain ranges, his jaw tight. Rogers moves in next to him, tracing the line of the Acha River up towards the mountain ranges, dotted with volcanoes.

"That valley there is too close to the city," Barnes murmurs. "The geysers would attract a number of tourists."

"More uninhabited then," Rogers agrees, and I swear I can almost see the wheels turning in their minds, like the gears from two separate machines fitting together.

I sit back and observe as they converse quietly, falling into a pattern of speaking that comes from a lifetime of knowing someone. Glancing to my right towards the cockpit, I see Tony's back is ramrod straight, his shoulders tense, and his grip on the throttle so tight, his knuckles are white.

My lips curve into a somewhat sympathetic frown. It's a lot, I suppose, for one person to handle, and Tony doesn't handle things very well. The teenager he made himself responsible had been taken by the very worst of humanity, and Stark had been forced to hunt down the last person he had ever wanted to see in order to get the kid back.

"There," Barnes says suddenly, and both Tony and I whip our heads around to look at where he is pointing. "It has to be there."

Steve is nodding, and adds, "It's the most uninhabited area on the peninsula, and centered between these volcanoes here, which gives them unlimited access to a power source."

"I knew you boys were more than just pretty faces," I smirk before turning back towards Stark. "There's your location."

Tony is already altering the course. "Good work," he says somewhat reluctantly. "Now suit up. Vacation's over, Cap. Time to exchange that sunblock for a parka. Gear's in the back."

"Over here," I say as Steve raises an eyebrow in Stark's direction. Barnes stays by the map, his hands on the console, looking lost in thought. Rogers follows me to the back of the jet, where I open the clasps of a large silver case and stand aside. He lifts out the solid black uniform, and I cock my head slightly as something in his face tightens.

"What is it?" I ask softly.

"Nothing," he replies. I give him a look, and he relents. "Just strange seeing it without the stars and stripes is all."

Ah. "All that color would have clashed with your beard," my lips quirk up as I tease him, trying to lighten the mood. There is too much testosterone, too much brooding and melancholy in this goddamn jet.

Steve gives a snort of laughter. I see his eyes catch on the objects beside the case, and then he frowns, setting down his uniform to lift up the black and navy backpack.

"His name is Peter," I tell him, and he looks back at me with a questioning gaze. "Come on, Rogers. You didn't honestly expect me to not look into this kid after the stunt Tony pulled in Germany, did you?"

"How old is he?" Steve's voice is quiet, tense.

"Fifteen."

His grip on the backpack tightens as he murmurs, "Jesus Christ."

"These guys were good, Steve. They made sure there was nothing Stark could use to trace the kid when they took him, including his phone, watch, and backpack," I glance over at Tony, Rogers following my gaze. "He's not doing great."

Steve shakes his head slightly. "What was he thinking? Bringing a kid into this?"

"What were you thinking, when you first tried to enlist?" I asked gently. "The kid was doing this long before Stark found him. Tony just gave him better toys."

Rogers has never been good at hiding his emotions, and I can see them all roiling around in those sky blue eyes of his. I place a hand on his forearm. "I know there's a lot that needs to be said, a lot that needs to be gone through and hashed out. Let's just focus on getting the kid away from Hydra first, alright? Then we can all go back to beating the shit out of each other."

"Sounds like a plan," Steve's smile doesn't quite meet his eyes.

I open my mouth to speak-

"Romanov," Stark calls suddenly from the cockpit.

I raise an eyebrow at being summoned in such a manner and give Steve a dry look. "Duty calls."

"Good luck with that," Rogers replies as he begins to pull off his shirt.

I stride to the cockpit, and can't help but wonder just how the hell I got in the middle of this.

* * *

 **Peter Parker**

I drift in and out of consciousness so many times, it becomes nearly impossible to tell the two apart. It's like one of those hyper realistic, vivid dreams where you "wake up" but you're somehow still asleep.

It's disorienting, dizzying, distressing.

Huh. I wonder how many other words I can come up with that start with the letter D. Dismaying…disagreeable…dreadful…daunting…dire…

Dreaming.

I'm dreaming, aren't I?

Dreaming of Ned, of MJ. Dreaming that I'm lying on the cold, metal floor of a boat. No, wait, not a boat. A boat would be rocking, swaying. Whatever I am in is doing neither of those things. It's humming and accelerating and jostling. A van. I am in a van.

I dream I am lying on the cold, metal floor of a van. Yeah.

And Michelle is here. She's sitting in the corner, one leg straight out, the other bent so she can rest her sketchbook on her knee. She glances at me every so often, sometimes gnawing at her lip in concentration as the scratches of her pencil fill the silence.

She has pretty lips.

This must be a good dream.

I watch her draw, my body feeling impossibly heavy. I have no desire to move, to speak, to do anything at all except watch her. MJ finally sets down her pencil, and looks at the page with satisfaction. Glancing up, she catches me staring, and holds up the sketchbook so I can see what she's drawing.

Ice freezes the blood in my veins, and an almost painful chill shudders violently down my spine, making my fingertips and toes twitch slightly.

It's an insanely realistic drawing of me as Spiderman, but my mask is gone, and I am strapped to a table. Black, jagged pencil strokes surround it, and as I blink, I realize they aren't just scribbles, but menacing, towering figures. The worst part though, is my face.

In the drawing, I am screaming. Screaming in complete terror. Screaming like I am experiencing the most unimaginable pain. Screaming like they are killing me.

"Too disconcerting?" Michelle asks with a raised brow, her lips curving down into a pout.

Disconcerting. Another word to add to the list.

I don't think this is a good dream anymore.

"Peter," she says, waiting for my answer.

Then the drawing begins to move. My eyes are fixed on it, my lips parting in horror as the black figures on the page bleed together, spreading across the page like spilled ink, smothering everything in its path. The darkness leaps from the page, staining MJ's fingers and shooting up her arm.

I want to shout a warning at her, I want to shove myself to my feet to rip the darkness off of her, but my uncooperative limbs only jerk and spasm. I am forced to watch as the black, a writhing shadowy mass now, spreads across her entire body, and she melts into the darkness.

"He's starting to wake up, give him another dose," a gruff voice cuts through the terrifying silence. I can't tear my eyes away from the shadows in the corner, my skin still prickling with fear.

"Damn super humans and their metabolisms," another voice grumbles before a large, rough hand is on my shoulder, and I feel a sharp prick of pain in my neck.

My eyelids are too heavy to keep open anymore. If they were ever open to begin with. My twitching limbs relax, and then I am falling.

Falling.

Down, down, down, into the desolate dark.

* * *

 **A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I am really enjoying writing from all the different Avenger's perspectives! Anyone want to guess who will be featured in the next chapter? Chapter four is actually one of my favorites that I've written so far, so I cannot wait for you guys to read it! I try not to post a new chapter unless I have the next one already written. So hopefully will update soon. Please leave a review to let me know what you guys think! Much love!**


	4. Back in Black

**A/N: HUGE thanks to everyone who left a review or followed/favorited this story. Also, congrats to Elcall who correctly guessed the next POV! Ten points to Slytherin! (Since I don't know your Hogwarts house or if you are even an HP fan, we are going with my house. XD) This was seriously one of my favorite chapters to write so far, so I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter Four: Bucky Barnes**

"Why are you staring at me?" Steve asks from where he is seated beside me.

I keep my expression blank as I deadpan, "What the hell is on your face?"

Steve scoffs in disbelief as his hand reaches up to rub at his chin. "It's called a beard, Bucky. Someday, when you become a man, you can have one too."

"Not likely," I reply. "I have something else."

"What's that?"

"Dignity."

Steve lets out a quiet laugh, and across the jet, still seated at the cockpit's controls, I see Tony Stark's spine stiffen. When my gaze returns to Steve's face, I see him staring at my arm.

"T'Challa?" he asks, all humor gone from his voice.

"Stark."

His eyes meet mine sharply, widening in surprise. "Tony built you that?"

I give a short nod, curling the metal fingers, the dim lights of the jet reflecting off the dark, metallic surface. Steve looks as stunned as I had been when I'd been forcefully awoken from cryogenic sleep in Wakanda.

 _I inhale deeply, warmth seeping into my icy bones in a sudden rush. There's a hiss of steam around me, and I am barely able to pry apart my heavy eyelids to blink at the room around me. Everything is blurred and bright, and my eyes burn with the strain of trying to focus._

 _"Easy," a deep voice murmurs. T'Challa._

 _The king places a hand on my shoulder, steadying me as my breaths begin to come faster, easier. I give my head a shake, trying to reorient myself. Relief is the first emotion to come to the surface. Relief, because I remember where I am and why I am here. Relief, because I am myself, and my first instinct isn't to attack the man beside me._

 _Hope comes next. If they've woken me, it means that perhaps they've found a way to eradicate the twisted layers of brainwashing from my head._

 _My vision begins to clear, and I look up at T'Challa's solemn face, giving him a nod. He moves his hand from my shoulder to my back, his other hand coming up to rest on the center of my chest, steadying me as I lean forward and step out of the cryo-tube._

 _I grunt softly, leaning against the king on unsteady legs as blood rushes suddenly through my unused limbs. I take a few breaths, blinking at the floor, before giving the king another nod, my dark hair swinging with the movement. He slowly moves his hands away from me, and I sway slightly, but am finally able to stand on my own._

 _I straighten and look up, blinking in surprise as I stare right into Tony Stark's face._

 _His fist slams into my jaw, pain crackling through my cheek and skull as I crash to the ground on my knees. My right arm shoots out to catch myself before my face smashes into the floor._

 _"Sorry," Stark says from where he is now crouched in front of me. "Had to get that out of my system."_

 _The billionaire reaches out a hand to help me to my feet, and I look up at him through my hair before taking it._

 _"Fair enough," I say, my voice rough and hoarse with sleep. He helps me stand, and I catch sight of T'Challa's disapproving expression as he frowns at Stark. I look around now, seeing the woman behind Stark, a large silver case in her hand. The Black Widow, I realize, taking in the newly blonde hair softly curling around her solemn face. Natasha Romanov._

 _Steve is nowhere in sight._

 _Stark is somehow able to read the thought in my searching eyes, as he says. "Your boyfriend's in Brazil. We're picking him up next."_

 _Unease curls in my gut. I can think of no other reason why they would be here, and plan on retrieving Steve, unless it is on orders from Ross, that they finally found us and plan on taking us in and locking us up in that godforsaken raft._

 _My eyes flick to T'Challa, my hand curling into a fist. Had he sold us out?_

 _"Easy there, Tiny Tim," Stark says. "Quit giving his highness the stink eye. We found you all on our own."_

 _I turn back to Stark, raising an eyebrow. "Tiny Tim was a cripple with a crutch, not a missing arm."_

 _"Everyone's a critic," Stark murmurs, glancing back at Romanov in exasperation before meeting my eyes. "You know, there's only so many one armed fictional characters out there, and if you are anything like Cap, you aren't going to get any of my references."_

 _"Maybe you should just get to the point," Romanov suggests with a pointed look._

 _"Fine. Okay then, Luke Skywalker, here's the deal," Stark's expression is wiped clean of any humor and is replaced with one of such intensity, I feel my muscles coiling with tension as he steps closer to me. "You owe me. Owe me big. So you're going to come with me to drag Rogers out of hiding, and then you both are going to help me. Got it?"_

 _So Ross isn't behind this then. This is about something else. Some of my edginess eases slightly, but I still stare at him with a wary expression. "Help you with what?"_

 _"You remember your old pals, Hydra, don't you?"_

 _I stiffen, glancing between both of them. "What about them?"_

 _"They took something of mine. And unless you want to see what happened to you happen to a fifteen year old kid, you're going to help me get him back," Stark answers shortly, and I can see the rage simmering in his brown eyes._

 _Though I try to stop it, there is no smothering the onslaught of images that shoot through my head at his words. Dark, horrible images of pain, of confusion, of violation. Things I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. My teeth clench so hard I think they will shatter._

 _A fifteen year old kid. I'd been twenty when I enlisted in the war and faced unimaginable horrors._

 _They're watching me, waiting for my answer._

 _"Don't you think I'd be more of a liability where Hydra is concerned?" I say finally. "All it would take is a handful of words for me to turn on you."_

 _"I wouldn't worry about that," Stark folds his arms over his chest as Romanov strides forward and places the large case on the ground at my feet. She steps back, her sharp eyes watching me intently._

 _I glance at T'Challa, who's been watching the exchange without a word, and then I kneel, undoing the metal clasps and lifting the case open._

 _For a moment, I just stare at it._

 _The metal arm is nothing like the one Hydra built for me. It's made of thick, interlocking plates, all coated in a sheen of matte, black paint._

 _I look up at Stark, who kneels in front of me and leans close, a shadow passing over his face. "You take one step out of line," he says in a voice like steel. "You make one move against me or one of my own, and this arm will take you down faster than you can say_ do svidaniya. _Got it?"_

 _I nod. Of course Stark would build a bionic arm that would strangle me if I somehow turned. Any hope I still had that the Wakandan scientists had found a way to free my mind of Hydra control vanishes. But I am relieved that with this, at least I won't be able to hurt anyone else._

 _"Good," Stark rises, his voice lighter. "Let's go then. We'll install that on the way to get Rogers."_

 _T'Challa shakes Stark's hand as I get to my feet, Romanov stepping forward to close and pick up the case. "Good luck," the king tells him. "And next time you sneak into my country without an invitation, I will shoot first, ask questions later."_

 _"Fair enough," Stark says easily. "It's been a pleasure, your highness."_

 _T'Challa turns next to me. "We have not given up on you yet, my friend. The answer is close, and when you return, we will help you take back your mind."_

 _If_ I return, I think, and look away from the bionic limb.

"Bucky?" Steve's voice softly inquires. "You okay?"

"Fine," I answer.

I'm fine, I tell myself. I have to be.

* * *

 **Peter Parker**

The first thing I am aware of when I come to is an awfully grating and constant squeaking sound. My teeth clench at the piercing noise, and beneath my closed eyelids, I can still see rhythmic flashes of insanely bright light followed by intense shadow.

I stifle a groan.

It's too much for my heightened senses, too much for my already throbbing and dizzy head. My tongue feels thick and dry, too large for my mouth. I want to roll over, want to bury my head beneath something, _anything_ , to smother the sounds and the light.

But I can't.

I can't move at all.

Wriggling slightly, I can now feel thick, weighted straps across my chest, my thighs, my shins, pinning me down and keeping my limbs pressed tightly to my body. Even if I weren't strapped down, my body feels like it weighs an extra hundred pounds, and the effort it would take to even lift my hand would be astronomical.

My breath comes in quick, shallow pants as panic constricts my insides. Trapped. I'm _trapped_. I can't move. Why can't I move?

The sharp squeaking suddenly intensifies as my entire body changes direction in a sharp movement that makes my stomach lurch. I swallow down the violent wave of nausea.

 _Come on, Peter_ , I urge myself silently as my heart thuds way too fast in my heaving chest. _Think. Take stock of your surroundings. You can do this. Just. Stay. Calm._

Easier said than done.

Still, I take a deep breath through my nose, wincing at every flash of light that sends spears of pain into my head. Strapped down. Moving. Squeaky wheels. Straps. I am tied down to a gurney. I'm being wheeled down a long hallway.

I inhale deeply again.

It smells sterile, too sterile, like bleach and cleaners and chemicals. The sharpness of the odors make my headache and nausea even worse.

Hospital?

No. It's silent. Silent, save for the horrible screeching wheels and the marching footsteps on the tile floor. Hospitals are never silent.

Why do I feel so sick, so disoriented? Why is it so hard to think, to move?

The gurney lurches as it turns again, and I have to clench my teeth to swallow the bile rising in my throat.

 _Come on, Peter, think_ , I order myself firmly. _Remember_.

School. I was in school and Ned-I was walking home with Ned. We were talking about something…something important…at least it felt important. Michelle! We were talking about MJ and then- then I was being followed.

The images begin to race through my mind's eye like some horribly vivid movie, and I feel like the gurney I am strapped to is spinning. My heart is galloping in my chest now, each beat more painful than the last.

I was captured. I was captured by Hydra. Freaking _Hydra_. Drugged. Taken. Now I had to be in one of their bases, one of their evil lairs.

 _Oh god_.

This is wrong, so wrong on so many levels. This is _huge_ , like _Captain America_ huge. And I am just Peter Parker, just Spiderman, just the small time hero looking out for the little guy. I shouldn't be here. This shouldn't be happening.

The gurney jerks as it slams into something, sending shockwaves through my skull.

" _Vorsichti,_ " a sharp voice snaps nearby, startling me.

German. That was German. The realization suddenly makes this seem a hell of a lot more real, more terrifying.

" _Setzen Sie ihn hierher_."

The gurney stops suddenly. I don't know what will be worse; opening my eyes and seeing what is about to happen, or staying in the dark, waiting for the unknown.

My eyelids pry slowly open. I blink rapidly, my eyes watering from the intense light glaring down above me. I am shaking; my whole body is trembling, but I can't tell if it is from fear, or from the bone chilling cold of the room I am in.

Everything is slightly blurry, slightly doubled, my eyes unable to focus on anything for too long as they flit from one thing to another rapidly.

Holy _shit_.

It's like I've been dropped into a horror movie.

Dingy gray walls, stained concrete floors, massive machines that look like they've come from a hospital, and some that look like they came out of a mad scientist's lab…monitors and holographic screens, tables covered in medical equipment; vials, beakers, needles, _knives_ …

It all hits me in a dizzying wave of information, an assault of spinning images and sounds and smells that overload my body with crushing panic.

Is this really happening?

" _Er ist wach_ ," the sharp voice comes from my left, and my head whips to the other side, my sight blurring in a wash of color from the movement.

When it clears slightly, I see an old man in a stark white coat looking down at me. At least, I think he's looking down at me. The harsh light coming from the ceiling is glaring on his glasses, and I can't see his eyes, just the stern cut of his mouth and his clean shaven jaw.

Icy cold fingers grip my chin, making me flinch violently. I am strapped down so tightly, I can't even pull away as he tilts my head this way and that, examining me with a frown. I flinch again as someone from my right leans over me. All I can see is their white coat as they attach wired circular monitors to my bare, sweat slicked chest.

" _Nadel und spritze_ ," the old man orders in a hard voice, letting go of my face. Someone comes up behind him, handing him a large syringe, the needle at the end of it glinting in the light.

"No, wait," I croak, my voice cracking. " _Don't_ -"

Holding down my left arm with one hand, he slides the needle into the crook of my arm. I wince, my body jerking at the sudden, sharp pain. Horrified, I blink as my crimson blood begins to fill the vial at the other end of the syringe. I can't look away from the sight of my own blood, even as someone is strapping something around my other arm.

The old man removes the needle and syringe from my arm, holding the vial up to the light and tapping it gently. His face tilts down as he stares at me, the light glinting off his circular glasses.

" _Lass uns anfangen,"_ his voice is cold, clinical, and I swear I feel it shuddering down my spine as he repeats himself in English this time. "Let's begin."

* * *

 **A/N: DUN DUN DUN! :O Seriously, though, the biggest of all thanks to PippinStrange, who is by far the best beta in the world, and if you haven't read her story Down Came the Rain, what the heck are you still doing here? Go! Go read it now! It's insanely good. And guys, reviews are life, so thank you SO much if you've left me a review in the past, and please take a second to let me know your thoughts on this chapter! Lots of good stuff in store! Anyone want to try and guess the POV for the next chapter? Tell me your guess and your Hogwarts house if you know it, and I will award some points when I post the next chapter! ;)**


	5. Enter Sandman

**A/N: Ten points from Slytherin are revoked, and TWENTY points are awarded to Ravenclaw because Elcall _c_ alled it again! This chapter's POV is split between Tony and Peter! Enjoy! :)**

* * *

 **Chapter Five: Tony Stark**

" _H-hey, Mr. Stark. I'm sorry to bother you, I mean, I know you are probably busy. But…but I think…I think I'm being followed. And they don't really look like your typical New Yorkers looking for an easy hit…It might be nothing, I can probably handle it, but I-"_

The message ends with an abrupt click.

"Play it again," I order F.R.I.D.A.Y., and stare out at the dense white and gray clouds that the jet is cutting through. The A.I. obliges, and I lean back in my seat, crossing my arms as the voicemail repeats itself.

 _"H-hey, Mr. Stark. I'm sorry to bother you, I mean, I know you are probably busy.…"_

It's pointless. I have the damn thing memorized now, and there's no hidden clue, no secret message, no answers within it. F.R.I.D.A.Y had already torn the audio clip apart and delved through every single decibel of the message as well as the short phone call I had with Peter before he was taken. There's nothing else to gain by listening to it.

"Again."

 _"H-hey, Mr. Stark. I'm sorry to bother you..."_

God, I'm such a masochist.

I can't help but wonder if I had answered that first phone call, if I would have been able to get to him in time to prevent all this. I'm pretty sure I would have.

That meeting had been important, I'd tried to rationalize. I'd figured that the kid was probably just giving me an update on his latest patrol, or calling to tell me he'd changed his mind about the whole Avenger thing. It could wait, I'd thought. Or Peter would call Happy and he'd handle it. Not important.

Something had nagged at me though, making it impossible to focus on Pepper's voice and the replies of the other company CEOs I had been meeting with. The icon on my phone telling me that the kid had left a voicemail had glared up at me. So I'd excused myself, ignoring Pepper's incredulous glare, and gone into the hall to listen.

Not important, I had thought. _Not important_.

I need a drink.

"Again."

 _"H-hey, Mr. Stark…"_

"How many times are you going to do that to yourself?"

I don't bother turning to look as the blonde haired assassin seats herself next to me in the copilot's chair. "Aren't you supposed to be working?" I ask, ignoring her question. "Suiting up, double checking maps and equipment, flirting with Rogers?"

"We're as ready as we can be. And I wasn't flirting."

"No? Could've fooled me. You practically had your hands running through that majestic beard of his. Banner will be jealous."

"Are you ever going to answer my question, or are you just going to keep deflecting and trying to provoke me?"

"Who's deflecting? Bruce still a sore subject, is he?"

"When's the last time you slept?" she asks, trying a different angle. Smart. Annoying and persistent, but smart. "Your dark circles have dark circles."

Ouch.

"I liked you better when you were a redhead," I say shortly.

Silence descends, and I can feel those eyes of hers boring into me. She's changing tactics again. The spider is weaving her web of tense quiet and uncomfortable stares and is waiting patiently for her prey to crack.

It won't work. I know her games.

I keep my eyes straight ahead, but in my peripherals I can see that she is sitting perfectly still, her legs crossed, arms folded. Poised and patient.

It won't work. It _won't_.

" _What_?" I snap, turning towards her. "What do you want me to say? No, I haven't slept. I can't sleep because the guilt is eating me alive. And I'm going to listen to this message as many times as I want, because I didn't listen to it when it would have counted, and it's all I can do while I sit in this goddamn jet with you hair-changing psychopaths."

Natasha just tilts her head slightly. "Was that so hard?"

I let out an exasperated sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. The headache that has been steadily building for the past twenty-four hours is now throbbing in tandem to my heartbeat. "F.R.I.D.A.Y, make a note to restock all the jets with mass amounts of painkillers when we get back. The good stuff, not the over the counter shit we have in the first aid kits. And let's add in espresso machines while we're at it."

"We'll get him back, Tony," Natasha's voice is gentle.

"Don't," I warn her, dropping my hand from my face. "Don't make those empty promises. You know better than that. There is no guaranteeing what will be left of him by the time we get there."

"You heard what T'Challa told Barnes before we left the palace," she reminds me. "His scientists are close to finding a way to wipe the brainwashing out of his head. Permanently."

"Yeah, well, what if they aren't just brainwashing him, Nat? They could be torturing him, experimenting on him, hell, they could have _killed_ him already, and we'd have no clue," I reply sharply. A heavy weight sits on my chest, and l try to take a deep breath to alleviate it. It does nothing. "The kid is my responsibility. Whatever happens to him is on me."

"Peter's a strong kid, Tony. He's young and resilient. He'll make it. He'll be okay."

I eye her with a frown. "And how the _hell_ do you know he'll be okay?"

Natasha smirks in that knowing way of hers. "Tracking Hydra's movement wasn't my only side project while on the run from Ross and his lackeys."

Jesus Christ. Was there anyone who _didn't_ know about the kid and his daily activities?

Natasha rises from her chair and leans against the console. "I can think of a few better ways for you to spend your time instead of wallowing in-"

"-Yeah, I'm going to stop you there, because first off, I don't wallow. Second, I know where you're going with that, and the answer is no."

She huffs, her cool exterior finally cracking enough for me to see her irritation. "There are only a million reasons why it would be a good idea, but I'm not going to hold your hand and list it out for you. You're the genius here, start acting like it. _Talk_ to them."

With that, Natasha strides off, muttering under her breath about men acting like complete children.

Maybe she's right. I can think of just as many reasons as she can why hashing it out and burying the hatchet with Cap and Barnes right now would be beneficial all around. It would be the smart thing to do. Maybe even the best thing to do before we reached the Hydra base.

From the back of the jet I hear the sound of Barnes murmuring.

I should do it.

Steve's quiet laugh seems to echo across the space, and I feel my spine stiffening in response, my muscles tensing slightly.

I should just do it.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y, play the message again."

" _Yes, boss._ "

" _H-hey, Mr. Stark…"_

* * *

 **Peter Parker**

"What are you doing?"

I slowly drag my eyelids open and find that I can only open them halfway. Blearily, I stare at Michelle, sitting cross legged in the corner of my cell.

It's too much of an effort to keep them open for long, and she is just sitting there, watching me, so I let them drift shut again. I'm so tired, and everything hurts.

"Peter."

"What?" the word is slurred, and I don't even bother trying to open my eyes again. I wish she'd just let me sleep.

"You shouldn't be here."

"Neither should you," I mumble back. If I am seeing her, hearing her here, then they must have drugged me again. That or they broke me, and I've gone crazy. I'm too exhausted and sore to bring myself to care which it is.

She's quiet for awhile, and I think maybe she disappeared. That's good. I don't want her here, don't want them to hurt her too.

The cement is hard underneath my body, freezing against my cheek, my bare chest, but I don't even have the energy to roll over and curl up into a ball to try and conserve warmth. Just the thought of attempting it makes the soreness in my back flare.

Without Michelle's voice filling the silence, the incessant buzzing of the bright fluorescent lights seems to intensify, dragging jagged nails across my ravaged eardrums.

God, I just want to go _home_.

The thought hits me so violently, so intensely, my breath hitches, and warmth blossoms beneath my closed eyelids.

Home.

I can visualize it so vividly, I can almost feel the soft, slightly lumpy couch beneath my body instead of the unforgiving cement floor. I can almost smell Aunt May's favorite candle burning; the overpowering scent of cherry blossoms and jasmine that I secretly think smells like an old lady, but would never tell her that. I can almost feel her hand brushing my hair away from my face, her nails gently grazing my scalp, lulling me to sleep.

Warmth trails slowly across my cheeks.

A scratching noise begins to fill the cell, covering up the hum of the lights, and I sigh heavily. Michelle is back, or she never left. And she's drawing again. I don't think I want her to. It goes on for awhile, so I force my eyes back open.

MJ's wildly curly hair is slipping from her ponytail. Tendrils of it keep falling in front of her eyes, and she brushes them back with a huff of annoyance. My fingers twitch, and I wish suddenly I could tuck them behind her ear for her.

I bet her hair is soft.

Her brows are knitted together in concentration as she draws, her eyes intense and focused on the page before her. I remember then, the last thing she drew, and suddenly I know for a fact that I don't want to see her new drawing.

I start to close my eyes again when she sits up straighter, a satisfied sigh escaping her lips.

"There," she says, lifting her drawing pad and turning it so that I can see.

It's another realistic depiction of me. This time I am on my stomach, a massive needle the length of my body stabbing into my back, pinning me to a white wall. My limbs are spread, my head turned to one side, my eyes open and glassy. Around me are smaller shadowboxes filled with different species of spiders, all pinned in place, all dead. I look like the crown jewel of an arachnologist's collection.

Phantom pain prickles across my chilled skin and stabs deep into my lower back as I stare at it. For a moment, I can feel the needle as it descends through skin into my spine.

 _Wait_. Wait a moment.

That had actually happened.

One of the many tests they'd performed on me in that lab. The one with the doctor who had no eyes. They'd turned me over, strapped me down, driven what had felt like an impossibly long needle into my back. It had taken ages, and when I wouldn't stop talking, stop pleading, they'd shoved a gag in my mouth.

"What did they do to you, Peter?" Michelle asks with a frown, letting the pad drop into her lap. The pencil clatters loudly as it drops to the cement floor.

Cut me open, injected me, hurt me, shoved me into their machines. Performed countless tests and experiments like I was nothing but a lab rat.

Found out what made me tick.

And I hadn't even fought back.

"You couldn't have. They'd drugged you, Peter, and it was still in your system. There was nothing you could've done," MJ says it so matter-of-factly, and leans against the wall, her hair falling forward again in front of her eyes.

Huh. Had I said those things out loud? Or could Michelle read minds now?

"You're drugged, remember? I'm not real, doofus," she rolls her eyes.

Oh. Right. My head feels thick and fuzzy. It's hard to keep my thoughts straight. I swallow thickly, wishing desperately for a drink of water. The thought intensifies the desert dryness in my throat and makes the cracked skin of my lips feel even tighter. God, I'm so thirsty.

When was the last time I'd had anything to drink? To eat? How long have I been here?

How long _will_ I be here?

My heartbeat quickens, my chest tightening as I wonder how many more tests I will be put through, how many times they will take me apart and put the pieces back together before they kill me. I don't want to die here.

 _I don't want to die._

"You won't," MJ says, stretching her legs out in front of her and accidentally kicking her fallen pencil. It rolls in my direction, grazing my fingertips as it spins past me. I marvel for a moment at how realistic my hallucinations are and wonder what kind of drugs they are giving me.

"I won't?" I ask aloud, blinking blearily at her.

"Isn't someone coming for you?" Michelle is looking at me like it is the most obvious thing in the world.

And it is.

I feel some of my muscles relaxing ever so slightly at the realization. Of course. Of course someone is coming for me.

Mr. Stark is coming. Iron-man is coming. He is an Avenger, and Hydra is no match for someone like him. Tension eases in my chest, my fear and panic lessening with the realization.

He's coming for me. I just have to hang on until then.

* * *

 **A/N: THANK YOU to all of you who took the time to review. I really can't stress enough how motivating they are for me as a writer. This chapter was hard to write, but it came together with help from the fabulous PippinStrange! Things are starting to pick up guys, and I am currently writing the next chapter which wraps up the build up before the big climactic chapter after that! SO excited for you guys to find out what happens next. Let me know your thoughts!**


	6. Fade to Black

**A/N: You guys are so awesome! As a gift to you for such awesome reviews, here is the longest chapter yet, told entirely from Peter's point of view. Enjoy! This chapter does get fairly dark towards the end, so fair warning!**

* * *

 **Chapter Six: Peter Parker**

The moment I open my eyes, I know they've made a mistake.

I am exhausted, my body and head aching from the myriad of tests and drugs I've been subjected to, but I am entirely lucid.

Whatever drug they gave me, it must not have been as strong of a dose, or someone had forgotten to give me another. Or maybe they thought that with everything they did to me, I would be too weak to need additional doses.

Whatever the reason, these guys had screwed up.

My heart is racing in my chest, sending adrenaline coursing through my body as I lay face down on the cement floor of my cell. It takes all my willpower to keep my eyes closed and body relaxed, when the frantic energy filling my veins is demanding me to move, to fight and to run.

I force my chest to keep rising and falling in a slow, steady pattern as I listen, my ears straining to capture every sound, anything that might help me.

 _There_. Underneath the grating buzz of the fluorescent lights, I can hear a steady hum, the whir of a camera as it focuses on my prone body on the floor. _I knew it._ They are watching me. I have to lay still, to feign sleep until someone comes to open that cell door, or they will send who knows how many agents to subdue me and drug me again.

My fingers twitch slightly, either from the thought of being drugged and experimented on again, or from my shattered nerves. _Shit_. Tension coils in my gut, and I am almost trembling from the effort it takes to keep my body still and relaxed. I wait, petrified that my movement had given me away, and that any second now my cell would be flooded with bad guys.

Seconds pass. Minutes.

God, how do people _do_ this in the movies? With every passing moment, I can feel my heart rate increasing, my muscles becoming more rigid with the need to _move_ , to do something. How long will I have to wait for someone to open that door? What if no one comes for hours?

And then a more random thought hits me. I wish I was wearing more than just sweatpants. Somehow, I know an escape would be a hell of a lot easier, not to mention cooler, in my suit as Spiderman, instead of in threadbare sweatpants as Peter Parker.

I can't take it. My nervous energy is spiking, and I am going to have to just risk it and try breaking down the door myself. I stopped a bus with my bare hands, lifted several tons of concrete from my back. I can break down a locked, reinforced metal door. Then make a run for it. I got this.

My hands press flat against the floor, ready to shove myself up.

The heavy lock on the door clicks suddenly, the sound thundering against my raw nerves, and I can't help but suck in a sharp breath and hold it in anticipation. My ears pick up two sets of footsteps entering my cell.

Holy _shit_.Okay, here goes nothing. No big deal, Peter. I'm just about to attempt to escape from a Hydra facility that's god knows where and filled with soldiers and scientists who probably want to kill me. I'm Spiderman. This'll be cake.

I am _so_ going to die.

" _Der Junge schläft noch_."

" _Wen interessiert das? Geben Sie ihm die zweite Dosis, damit wir ihn zu Doktor Muller bringen können."_

I am still holding my breath as the two hydra soldiers approach my prone body. As soon as their bodies block the intense light, their shadows falling over me, I spring into action.

My eyes shoot open, and I am rolling onto my back, sweeping my leg out and knocking the first man's legs out from underneath him. He lands on his back with a cry of pain, a liquid filled syringe falling from his open palm. The other man's eyes are wide as he raises his gun, his lips parting to yell a warning.

But I am faster.

I seize the syringe, shooting to my feet and yanking the man forward by his jacket. He stumbles forward and I jab the needle into his neck, pressing down on the end of the syringe as I do so. The man slumps heavily forward, his gun clattering to the floor, and I side step him as his large body crushes his companion's. The first man groans at the sudden weight pinning him down.

"Enjoy your nap," I call as I bolt out of the cell, bursting into a dingy hallway with the same cement floors and walls as my cell, and the same overly bright fluorescent lighting. Doors line the hall, but they remain closed, and there are no other soldiers in sight.

I sprint for the door at the end of the hall, praying that it leads to a stairwell or main corridor, that I am running in the right direction and not deeper into bad guy territory. My head is throbbing in time to my raging heartbeat, and my sore, unused muscles are groaning in protest.

Warning flares at the base of my skull, and I skid to a halt just as my hand was reaching for the handle on the door. My arms flailing at the sudden stop, I lunge to the side, pressing my bare back against the cool cement wall as the door bursts open and swings to a stop just inches from my face.

I leap up, my palms latching on and sticking to the ceiling as I slam my feet into the door. It crashes violently into the first Hydra soldier, who yells out in pain as he is pinned halfway through the doorway.

"Sorry about that," I say as I drop to the ground. "Let me get the door for you."

I yank open the door, and grabbing fistfuls of the injured man's uniform, I shove him with all my strength into the other soldiers trying to shove their way into the hall. They go crashing like dominoes as I leap nimbly over them, relief filling my chest at the sight of the stairwell beyond their fallen, struggling forms.

Up, I think instinctively, and race forward, taking the stairs about five at a time. It's gotta be up. Down will probably lead me deeper into their base, and I haven't seen any windows, any natural light. If I had to guess, we were in a lower level, maybe even underground.

There are shouts echoing behind me, followed by the sounds of pounding footsteps. I reach the next landing and glance down behind me, my stomach dropping. Holy crap. There has to be at least a dozen coming at me from below, and there is no telling how many more are heading my way from the other levels.

Ok then, time to pick up the pace.

Instead of running for the next set of stairs, I pull myself up onto the railing overlooking the lower levels of the stairwell. I see some of the Hydra soldiers take aim with their weapons, but I am already leaping into the air far higher than any normal person could. My fingers curl around the metal railing of the next landing up as the sound of gunshots explode through the stairwell, the loud, echoing sounds bursting through my sensitive ears.

I yank myself up onto the next railing, twisting my body and leaping for the next before the soldiers below can take aim again.

 _Faster_ , I urge myself as I surge from landing to landing, losing count of how many levels I have ascended, while the men below race after me on the stairs and fire a seemingly endless amount of tranquilizer rounds at me. Sweat is pouring down my neck, my back, and my muscles are on fire.

Just as I am pulling myself onto the next landing, my senses scream at me in warning, and I flatten myself to the floor as several darts embed themselves into the railing right where my hands had been just seconds before.

Crap, that was close.

The stairwell is an explosion of sound, layers upon layers of gunshots, footsteps, shouts and commands, all bouncing off of each other in a cacophony of chaos. So I don't notice it immediately when the pounding of boots on cement stairs is not only coming from below me, but above.

I am pushing myself to my feet when the first soldier descends around the corner from the stairs in front of me, his body lowered in a crouch as he takes aim.

"Shit!" I curse out loud as I barrel into the door just as he fires. I feel the breeze as the tranquilizer dart barely misses my right shoulder and embeds itself into the door frame behind me.

This corridor is much larger than the narrow hallway where my cell had been located and filled with offshoots of smaller halls and corridors, all lined with steel doors. Still no windows.

There's no time to consider that I may be running straight for a dead end now that the stairwell is no longer an option. I take the first hallway on my right, then another left as the hall ends abruptly. The shouts and footsteps are getting louder. They're gaining on me, fast.

The next hallway ends in a large set of double doors that I slam into, stumbling slightly as they burst violently open, and I am instantly, suddenly blinded by sharp, searing white light. I cry out, throwing my arms up and squeezing my eyes shut as I stumble to a halt. Freezing, glacial wind barrels into me, the cold cutting deep into my body as it whips through my hair and penetrates my skin into my very bones.

I've never been so cold in my entire life. It's the kind of cold that takes your breath away. What the _hell_?

Slowly, I lower my arms and rapidly blink my watering eyes so they can adjust to the light. Even if the freezing temperatures hadn't just stolen the air from my heaving lungs, the sight before me would have.

I stare, my wide eyes burning, my mouth dropping open in shock, in horror at the endless sea of white and grey around me. I fall to my knees, any hope of escape shriveling and dying in my chest, vanishing as abruptly as my breath had.

Oh _god_.

 _No freaking way._

Jagged, snow covered mountains loom before me, surrounding me, and the base I have been taken to is nestled in between two of the icy, towering giants. There was no telling which mountain range this was, hell, even what _country_ this was. And even if I knew, there was no way I would survive even a few hours in the treacherous snow and ice wearing nothing but a pair of thin, ragged pants.

" _Wir haben ihn_ ," growls a voice from behind me.

The Hydra soldiers have caught up with me, and I hear the click of their weapons as they take aim. I make no move to fight them.

What's the point? I am outnumbered, outgunned, and trapped in the middle of nowhere with the most evil organization on the planet. There's nothing I can do. Nothing, except wait, and hope that Ironman had somehow discovered where they had taken me, that he was on his way to get me out of here.

Something sharp pierces my left shoulder blade, and I feel the familiar numbness spreading across my exhausted limbs, the familiar dizziness ready to sweep me once again into the darkness. I sway, still on my knees, watching as the whites of the mountains, of the thick clouds curling around their peaks, all begin to spin and melt together.

 _Luke, you're my only hope,_ I think dizzily, the image of a projected holographic Princess Leia mixing in with the whirling whites in my vision. I feel myself falling forward, my face suddenly even colder than it was seconds ago.

Soothing darkness washes over me, the muscles in my body relaxing almost instantly.

 _Tony,_ I think blearily. _Tony, not Luke. I don't know a Luke._

 _Tony's my only hope._

 _He's coming for me._

 _He's coming._

 _He's…_

* * *

I wake up to gloved fingers prying my eyelids apart to shine a horribly bright light directly into my eyes. I flinch away, jerking my head to the side and trying to rapidly blink away the spots clouding over my vision.

A rapid, high pitched beeping noise fills the air, and after a brief, panicked moment, I realize it matches the accelerating beat of my heart. My breath comes in quick, shallow pants as I try to move, only to find out I am once again strapped down.

But it is not to a moving gurney this time. It's to some kind of table, tilted into an almost upright position, and the heavily weighted straps are around my wrists, my ankles, across my chest and thighs.

My head is whipping around, trying to hear over the shrill tone of what had to be a heart monitor, the din of voices, the clanking sound of metal against metal. The spots in my vision begin to dissipate, and I can finally see what is around me.

Oh my god.

Shit. I am in deep, unending _shit_.

It has to be the largest room in the entire facility, long and rectangular, with a second level overhang with metal railing wrapping around the entire length of it. The second level has a large window glaring down at me, and I realize with a stab of unease that it is a two way mirror. Directly in front of me, at the end of the room, is a massive set of metal double doors, with two Hydra agents with menacing looking weapons standing guard.

All around me loom massive machines, the kind of which I have never seen before and can't even begin to guess what they are used for. Monitors and screens cast the room in an eerie, greenish glow as scientists, doctors, and more heavily armed agents move purposefully about the room.

Tension and anticipation hang thick in the air. Something huge is about to go down.

And I am tied down in the center of all of it.

 _Crap._

 _Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap._

Panic. I am definitely panicking. My chest aches with the force of my heart slamming against my ribcage, and I am breathing so quickly, gray spots are starting to edge around my vision. I thrash and writhe against my bonds, trying to get any kind of leverage to tear myself free.

I don't care if it won't do me any good, if they will just take me down the moment I get loose. I have to get _out_.

Sweat is pouring down my temple, down my chest, and I can feel numbness spread from my fingertips, to my palms, up my forearms. God, I think I am close to passing out.

The old man from before stands suddenly in front of me, his mouth cut in a thin line, the green glow from the machines reflecting off his round glasses. "Relax, ," he says in his thick accent. "It will be over shortly."

I cease my struggling and stare at him incredulously. " _Relax_? You're kidding me, right? Does this look like a freaking spa to you, doc?"

He shifts, the glow on his glasses diminishing enough for me to see his small, ice blue eyes glinting beneath them. "You should be honored that you've been chosen for such a...prestigious venture."

"I don't think honored is the word I would choose. How 'bout you and me switch places, and you can tell me how _honored_ you feel," I reply shortly, with more bravado than I actually feel. "Look, buddy, I didn't sign up for this or fill out any release forms saying that I volunteer to be poked and prodded and whatever else it is you plan to do with me. So why don't you let me go now, and I won't sue?"

An assistant comes up from behind him and murmurs something in German. The doctor nods and replies back, his lips curving up slightly. The sight makes my stomach drop somewhere beneath my feet.

"Do not worry, my young friend. I have full confidence that you will succeed where many others have failed," he gives me a nod and turns away.

Wait, _what_?

"What does that mean?" I call after him, the pitch of my voice rising as I start to pull against my bonds once more. "What the hell does that mean, 'Where many others have failed'? Failed at what?"

He doesn't turn or bother responding, but speaks quickly with some of the other scientists gathered around a table covered in equipment.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!"

It's no use. The drugs remaining in my blood stream have weakened me enough that I can't pull myself free, and the doctor continues to ignore me. I let out a groan of frustration and slump back against the table, panting.

I turn my head, catching sight of the multiple monitors. I squint at them, trying to read the multitude of files that are currently pulled up, but the print is too small to make out. The pictures, however, I can see just fine.

And suddenly I wish I couldn't.

There are twelve black and white photographs. Twelve pictures of twelve people. With twelve red X's slashed across each one of them.

" _You will succeed where many others have failed."_

 _Oh my god._

"Gentlemen!" the lead doctor calls out suddenly, loudly, and I nearly jump out of my skin. My head whips back towards him.

He is standing with his back to me, looking towards the large two way mirror glaring down at us, his arms outstretched. The other scientists have all stopped their movements to watch and listen.

"You have been patient thus far, when our experiments have failed again and again, and I assure you, your patience has been well worth it. Thanks to your generous assistance, we have finally found a suitable candidate, and we believe this will be the final trial."

English. He's speaking to whoever is behind that window in English. That's important, but I am panicking so badly, I can't think of why. Even though I can't see them, I am very aware of multiple pairs of eyes boring into me. I feel stripped down, naked, vulnerable in a way I've never felt before in my entire life.

And while Doctor _Psycho_ seems confident that I will be a success in whatever nightmarish experiment they plan on performing on me, I'm not so convinced. An image flashes in my mind; another failed trial, another black and white photo added to the list, a blood red X crossing over my face.

Then comes an even worse thought. What will it mean for me, if whatever they do to me actually _works_?

I don't know how anyone can hear the doctor's speech over the sound of my thundering heartbeat.

"You have waited long enough for what we have promised you. So without further ado, let us begin," he finishes, turning to his assistants. " _Bereiten Sie die Probe vor_."

One of the men nods and strides to the large table on my left, bending over and picking up a thick, metal case the size of a shoebox and setting it up on the table. I can't tear my eyes away from it, and I can't remember the last time I have blinked.

He opens it, steam pouring out from the edges with a sharp hiss. A second man steps forward, thick long gloves enclosing his hands and forearms, and reaches into the container.

Every sense, every single part of me is riveted on the case and its contents. The scientist lifts something out of it, edging slowly to the left side of the container, his body blocking my view as he sets it gently onto the table.

 _Move, damn it!_

He steps aside, and I find myself leaning forward as far as I can to see it.

I blink.

I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't this. No medieval or modern torture device, no large vial of glowing serum, but an ordinary petri dish that contains something small and inky black.

The first assistant is back, a metal rod in his hands, and with a jerk, pale blue electricity crackles between the prongs at the very end of it. When the lid of the petri dish is lifted, the man jabs at the spot of darkness, sparks flying, and steps suddenly back. My eyes are wide, and I can't look away from the tiny fragment of black.

It moves.

It freaking _moved_.

Sharp, prickling chills stab like needles across my skin. For a moment, I think maybe I had imagined the movement, that it had just been a trick of the light. But then it twitches again, a small tendril of darkness shifting, like it is stretching.

Whatever that thing is, it is alive.

 _Oh shit._

The old man approaches the table, his hands now covered in the same rubber gloves, and slowly reaches down with a large, oddly shaped syringe. Gently, as if he is coaxing it, he touches the tip of the needle to the black spot's surface, and in a gradual, painfully sluggish movement, sucks the darkness up into the syringe.

As one, they all look up at me.

Fear like I have never experienced slams into me, and I am no longer Peter Parker. I am a cornered animal, trapped and threatened and utterly alone.

"What _is_ that? _What is it?_!" I don't even recognize my own voice as I thrash wildly against the straps holding me down. The doctor is moving towards me, holding the syringe with careful, reverent hands. " _Keep that thing away from me! Don't_ -"

A shadow falls over me before a firm hand suddenly grasps my jaw from behind, yanking it open in a violent move I know will leave bruises. My yells and cries are muffled as a thick rubber bar is suddenly shoved between my teeth. Then the hand moves from my jaw to grip my hair and jerk my head painfully forward as the straps on either end of the rubber bar are stretched and clasped at the back of my skull.

I shout and yell through the gag, shaking my head and pulling on my restraints with as much strength as I can muster. I can't even hear what they are saying around me, my heart is beating so wildly, so loudly in my head.

The doctor is beside me, the greenish light glinting off the needle, the darkness inside the syringe a depthless black that seems to absorb any light that touches it.

" _Nnnnnn_!" I am screaming, my head shaking frantically back and forth as my hands curl into fists. " _Nnn! Plss nnn!_ "

A gloved hand presses against my heaving chest, stabilizing my body while the syringe begins to descend. I feel the tip of the needle press against the skin just above my thundering heart. The doctor pauses for a moment, looking at the others around him a final time before he takes a deep, steadying breath.

This is the moment, I think wildly. This is when Iron-man will make his grand entrance and explode through those doors. I look towards them, hope rising wildly in my chest. He will take everyone down in a matter of minutes, tear me out of this, and take me home. He's coming for me. I know he is. He's-

The needle stabs into my body as the old man's hand plunges down on the syringe.

I freeze, my muscles locking up and my breath stilling in my lungs as I stare down at the descending darkness with wide, horrified eyes. I am trembling, trembling so badly my teeth would be chattering if it weren't for the bar shoved between them.

The syringe is now empty, and I am so in shock, I can't even feel the needle pulling out of my skin as the doctor smoothly removes it.

I am hyperventilating, my body shaking so violently I think I might shatter into a million pieces. A dull roar fills my ears, making all the sounds around me faint and muffled. I can't look away from that spot on my chest where a small bead of crimson blood has appeared.

I can _feel_ it.

Oh god, I can actually _feel it._

It rests above my heart, unmoving, a kernel of ice so cold, it's burning inside of me.

My vision blurs as warm wetness pools in my eyes and slips down my cheeks. Pain flares in my palms as I clench my hands so tightly, my fingernails are embedding themselves into my skin.

He didn't come. He isn't here.

He's not coming.

I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't _breathe_.

Tense voices are speaking sharply around me, but even if they are speaking English, I can't hear or understand them over the ringing in my ears.

I'm going to die here. Whatever they put in me will kill me, and I will be just another failed experiment. I'll never see May again, or Ned, or Michelle. Or Tony. God, what I wouldn't give to even just hear Karen's soothing voice, just for a minute.

I jerk, jumping violently as I feel smooth, cold metal suddenly pressing against the skin on either side of my temples. My head is suddenly immobile, and I glance around wildly with wide eyes. What is that? What are they doing to me now? What-

 _Pain._

My entire body seizes, my back arching, muscles instantly locking up, cramping so violently I think they will snap. Unbearable heat is vibrating and coursing through me, and my teeth are clenching around the bar so tightly I think they will shatter.

Pain. Pain. _Pain_.

It stops as suddenly as it came, my body collapsing back onto the table as my muscles continue to spasm. I inhale sharply through my nose, trying to gasp for air around the gag in my mouth.

Then all of my attention goes straight to the small, icy fragment of darkness I can feel resting inside of my chest. I groan suddenly, lurching forward as much as I can against my bonds as it shudders beneath my skin. My breath catches in my throat as it begins moving, stretching, _growing_.

"Again."

My eyes widen, and I suck in a breath before the pain surges into me again, higher, more violently than before. Eyes screwed shut, a scream tears from me as my back arches again, and all of my muscles seize and contract in agony. In seconds, my throat is completely raw from the force of my screaming. The pain is unbearable, each second feeling like hours as white hot energy courses through every part of my body. And beneath it all, I can feel the icy blackness expanding, spreading beneath my skin.

The pain won't stop. Why won't it _stop_? I can't breathe, can't outscream the pain. I am on fire. I am turning to ice. I am shattering into a million tiny pieces.

 _Make it stop_.

The agony increases, growing sharper as the battle between fire and ice intensifies, crackling through my ravaged nerves and cramping muscles. I am burning alive and freezing to death all at once. I've run out of breath, but I'm still screaming.

It's too much, _too much-_

There's a sudden, massive explosion, but it is impossible to tell whether it came from within me or around me.

Then everything stops, and the darkness takes me.

* * *

 **A/N: I am so mean to Peter. :( Let me know your thoughts and guesses for what's going on and what's going to happen in the next chapter! Your reviews seriously make my day. The next chapter is going to be a big one, so it might take me a bit longer to write depending on how the weekend goes. Once again, a massive thanks to PippinStrange, who I couldn't do this without!**


	7. Black Hole Sun

**A/N: Welcome new readers! OMG you guys! Your reviews are amaze-balls. Love hearing all your theories and questions! SO, due to the length of the big 'finale', I have decided to split it into two chapters, so that I can both give you an update sooner, and so it isn't so overwhelmingly long. And by finale, I just mean the big climax. There will still be more chapters afterwards, and a possible sequel in the works. I am also changing the titles on all the chapters to the names of classic rock songs to go with the title, but I will still let you know from whoever's POV I am writing in. Oooooo! Also, LONGEST CHAPTER YET! Whoop whoop! Without further ado, here is part one!**

* * *

 **Chapter Seven: Black Hole Sun**

 **Natasha Romanov**

"I got two on the roof. One sniper near the cliff face...and another on the ledge twenty feet up," I murmur, my gloved hands tightening around the thermal binoculars. Through them, I can see the heat signatures of the four men I've located from my vantage point in the snowy outcropping.

" _Bucky and I can take the ones on the rooftop. Stark, you got the others_?" Steve's voice sounds off in my ear piece.

" _Yeah, hang tight there, soldier boy_ ," comes Tony's voice. " _We don't move until I say so_."

"Really? We're doing this right now?" It's an effort to keep the disbelief from my tone. "Hell of a time for a power struggle, Tony."

" _Jesus, that's not what I meant. I'm jamming their communications and the cameras so they don't alert the entire base that the Avengers are paying a visit. Stealth mode, remember? Just wait for my signal._ "

Adjusting my binoculars, I can barely make out where Barnes and Rogers are moving in on either side of the white, narrow building nestled in between two monstrous peaks. Their uniforms are covered in thick, white camouflage, same as myself, making them almost impossible to see.

Stark is nowhere in sight. How the hell he is hiding his eccentrically colored suit in the blindingly white terrain, I have no idea.

" _Got it. Let's move it or lose it, people._ "

I rise in one fluid motion, dropping the binoculars into the snow as I curl my fist and raise my arm, aiming for the front right corner of the rooftop. With a deft twist, I fire a taser disc from the brace encircling my wrist, and watch as it embeds itself on the roof top's ledge, instantly emitting crackling blue electricity.

Both of the guards atop the roof give shouts in surprise, turning and aiming their guns straight at it in alarm.

 _Amateurs_.

I abandon my cover as Rogers and Barnes move in, and by the time I am racing through the snow towards the building, both of the guards are incapacitated. Glancing towards the cliff face, I notice both snipers have vanished.

Iron-man swoops down from above, his suit rippling as camouflaging reflector panels alter to their original red and gold state. He carries both of the gunmen in his hands and drops them carelessly into a heap on top of the other two guards.

"I don't like this," I admit as I reach them, Barnes and Rogers stepping off the rooftop and landing with dull thuds into the snow. "Only four manning the perimeter? No bunkers or towers? Pretty lax security for an alleged highly classified facility."

There's a brief, horribly quiet moment where we all wonder the same thing.

What if we are wrong, and the kid isn't here?

"All of the major bases have already been taken down," Steve says, his voice level and confident. "If they wanted to make sure they were never found, what better place than this? Smaller facility and fewer guards equal less attention."

"We need to move," Barnes says, discarding the white camouflage.

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Stark replies tersely as Rogers and I follow suit, leaving the white outerwear in the snow. Tony moves to the door, but I intercept him, placing a hand on the icy metal of his suit.

"Ladies first," I remind him. "This time, wait for _my_ signal."

Stealth is not Stark's strength. In fact, the only one here who can rival me in that area is Barnes, but this situation calls for a woman's touch.

I enter the facility alone.

Beyond the double doored entrance is a long, narrow hallway, empty of guards. They likely assumed that the men outside would be enough of an alert system. That, or they relied too much on their technology to safeguard them.

Their mistake.

Just ahead of me, the hall branches off to the left, and as I move silently across the cement floor, I can hear voices speaking beyond it. Pressing myself against the wall at the corner, I wait and listen.

" _Wieso sind wir nie irgendwo warm untergebracht?_ " comes a disgruntled voice. _"Ich friere meinen Arsch ab."_

German, I realize. Hydra had expanded far beyond its German origins over the years, so if the majority of the men stationed here are all German, then it has to be one of the old factions, still trying to grasp any semblance of power that it can.

" _Hör auf zu jammern. Es ist eine Ehre, Hydra zu dienen, egal wie die Bedingungen sind,_ " another replies sharply.

I move, surging around the corner and kicking off the wall to leap up into the air. A Hydra agent turns as I land with both hands on his shoulders, pulling myself up to hook one leg over him as I drive both fists into his neck, releasing my tasers. He drops immediately, and I fall with him, using the momentum to somersault forward and land in a crouch.

The remaining two whirl, gaping at me with wide eyes and open mouths.

" _Guten Abend, meine Herren_ ," I purr, before charging forward.

They raise their weapons, but I'm already too close, dodging under the first man's outstretched arm and jabbing upwards with my fist. His arm breaks with a loud crack, but before he can let out a scream, I sweep his legs out from under him and jam the taser attached to my wrists against his throat.

The second is smarter, and having realized his gun would be of no use in such close quarters, abandoned it for a long, wicked looking knife. He thrusts it at me as I spin to the side, seizing his wrist and driving my elbow straight into his face.

The agent collapses, and before his body has even hit the ground, I am pressing a finger to the communicator in my ear. "Way's clear, boys. Watch your step."

I scout the next hall as I wait for them to catch up, and it seems luck is on my side. The sounds of the fight have not attracted any unwanted attention.

"Christ, woman," Stark murmurs from inside his suit as the three make their way towards me. None of them bother to avoid stepping on the bodies of the agents I have left behind. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., get me a scan of the base."

Stark's A.I. only takes seconds to deliver a full scan of the entire facility now that we are actually inside of it. "Okay," Tony takes command. "Natasha, the mainframe is located four levels beneath us. Think you can get there and start meddling? I want everything they have. _Everything_."

"Meddling is one of my specialties."

"You two are with me," he orders, already stalking down the hall. "We have holding cells and laboratories on levels six and seven. That's where we'll start. Natasha, meet us there when you're finished."

"This may be redundant, but I'm saying it anyways," I tell Steve before he follows. "Try not to attract attention for as long as you possibly can. Take down the hostiles quickly and silently. The longer we can keep our presence unknown, the better our chances will be of everyone getting out of here."

Rogers exchanges a look with Barnes. "You act like it's our first time infiltrating a Hydra base."

"I'm just saying we can't go in this guns a-blazing when we're missing several of our big guns," I say pointedly, then nod towards Stark. "Try and rein him in, if you can."

Steve snorts, both men turning to follow Tony down the hall. He glances back at me. "Why don't I rein in the sun while I'm at it?"

I shake my head and move in the opposite direction, picking up my pace. If I can get to the mainframe, I'll likely gain access to all the cameras in the entire facility, and can ensure that Stark doesn't go on a rampage that will get us all killed.

Another turn, and I find a short corridor ending with a windowed metal door, beyond which I can glimpse a sliver of a narrow stairwell. Perfect.

I've nearly reached it when a shadow passes behind the narrow pane of glass, and the door opens. The agent doesn't have time to reach for his weapon before I am on him, driving my knee into his rib cage and knocking the wind out of his lungs before gripping his arm and flipping him over my shoulder. His head meets the floor with a crack.

I don't bother hiding the bodies I am leaving behind me. There's no time for that, and between the four of us, we should be able to disable anyone heading for the higher levels of the facility before they can spot the damage we leave in our wake.

Entering the stairwell, I glance down, pausing to listen. It is completely silent, and there is no one in sight. Good.

Securing a line from my belt to the railing, I propel myself over it and freefall down the center of the winding stairs, counting the levels as I descend and halting the line as I reach sublevel five. I keep low as I slip onto the landing, and with a press of the hourglass symbol on my belt, the line retracts. Easing my back to the door as I remain in a crouch beneath the thin window above me, my ears pick up the muffled sound of multiple voices and pairs of boots stomping on the concrete just beyond the door.

It's impossible to tell how many, but if Stark's right about the mainframe being on this level, it's safe to assume there will be more guards than we've already encountered. My guns remain untouched in their holsters. I can't risk the noise and attention firing them will bring.

I will have to move fast.

I brush a lock of pale blonde hair away from my face, and then I am yanking open the door and storming the corridor.

Two agents conversing in a doorway several feet away from me are the first to go down as I toss two taser disks at their feet. A third down the hall raises his gun at the same moment I raise my arm and fire another taser that attaches itself to the barrel of the weapon. Electricity crackles, disabling it and shooting painful currents up the man's arm that makes him drop to his knees.

I run forward, my boots slamming into the kneeling Hydra agent's shoulders to propel myself into the air where my legs wrap around the neck of the next guard. I let my upper body swing down, my thighs gripping him tightly as the momentum of my moving body flips him onto the ground. Two more taser discs leave my hands, and they are left to writhe and convulse before falling unconscious.

There's movement to my right, and I am forced to duck, then spin to the side as a Hydra agent lunges for me, fists swinging. Dodging his next punch, my back hits the wall, and I drop to my knees as his fist surges for my face. He cries out as his knuckles meet the unforgiving cement, and I yank his leg out from beneath him, driving my elbow down into his temple as his back hits the floor.

A click sounds off behind me, and I blindly spin, my leg kicking up and knocking a large gun from another agent's hand. I kick out again, my boot slamming into his groin, and as he doubles over, I thrust the heel of my hand up into his nose. He hits the floor head first, and then I am on my feet, fists raised for the next attack.

But it doesn't come.

All the guards are down.

I glance back briefly at the hallway lined with bodies, before striding for a large set of doors labelled in German " _Nur klassifiziertes Personal_ ".

Readying my tasers, I draw in a breath and kick open the doors. As they swing forward, I catch sight of the narrow room beyond them, lined on one side with a long desk crammed full of oversized consoles and monitors. The busy screens cast a pale blue glow on the two vacant chairs before them, both still spinning from the abrupt departure of their former occupants, now lying unconscious in the hall behind me.

I pause to pick up one of the guard's discarded rifles before moving into the room. Pulling the doors shut, I shove the long weapon through the wide door handles, effectively barricading the door and preventing any unwanted intruders.

A hand on the back of the nearest chair halts its spinning before I ease myself into it.

I angle my head side to side, cracking my neck before deftly reaching into one of the slots on my belt and pulling out a drive, Stark's design, naturally, and inserting it into the console. Tony wanted everything? He was about to get everything.

My fingers are flying over the keyboard in front of me, bypassing the initial firewalls and security measures that pop up as I head straight for what I came for.

Then something comes up that makes me pause, tilting my head ever so slightly like a lioness considering her prey. Interesting. The mainframe is protected by an A.I. They were prepared for something like this.

Or at least, they believed they were.

Stark's drive comes equipped with its very own A.I., in case of problems just like this one.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Care to lend a girl a hand?" I ask as I resume my own attempts to slip past it.

" _It would be my pleasure_ ," comes the slightly scottish lilt as Tony's A.I. joins the fray.

Hydra's security systems are no match for either of us, though its crudely constructed A.I. puts up a valiant effort, and as the minutes pass, it becomes completely disabled, allowing me to reach the files. I am able to access all of the information stored in this facility. A glance proves the files to be encrypted. It doesn't matter. There will be plenty of time to crack them open later. What's important now is getting them onto the drive.

Who knows what kind of information the files hold? If we're lucky, it will contain everything that has occurred in this facility, schematics for future plots we will have to unravel, maybe even the locations of any remaining bases, hide-outs or Hydra operatives that remain unaccounted for.

A few presses on the keyboard, and the download has started.

My head whips to the side suddenly as the fluorescent lights in the hallway begin flickering.

* * *

 **Tony Stark**

"Here, hold this for a sec," I say as I toss the unconscious guard I am holding into a Hydra agent about to fire his gun at me, sending them both sprawling into an undignified heap.

Beside me, Cap ducks as an agent swings his fist towards his face, and as he rises, Rogers slams his foot into the man's chest, sending him careening into the wall before dropping to the floor. "Subtle, Tony. Very stealth mode."

"Yeah, stealth isn't really my thing," I reply shortly as another guard lunges for me, fists flying. I grab him by his face, holding him in place as he keeps swinging wildly. "Goddamn, you guys are eager little bastards, aren't you? Don't get much action way out here in the snow?"

"Like trying to rein in the sun," Rogers mutters behind me as he engages another soldier.

A body comes flying from my right, knocking the guard I am holding out of my grip as both drop to the floor. I shoot a glance towards Barnes as he comes stalking past me.

"I had that."

"I know," is all he says as his metal fist drives into the last agent's temple.

My teeth clench together. One word. One little word is all it would take for me to make that metal arm of his punch Barnes right in his own, broody face. I don't say it. Not because I am a bigger man than that, I'm definitely _not_ , but because there's no time for it, not when the kid could be here, waiting for us.

Just around the corner are the holding cells, all lining the dingy hall with their thick metal doors like something out of a horror film.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., scan for any heat signatures," I command, not wanting to waste a minute checking every single cell.

" _System error. There is some compound lining the walls, causing interference. My sensors are unable to scan for heat signatures or any sign of life."_

 _Screw_ stealth.

I rip the first door off of it's hinges, revealing a cramped, narrow room that is utterly empty. No bench or cot, or even a waste bucket. The thought of the kid shoved into one of these…

Slams echo down the corridor as both Barnes and Rogers begin tearing open cell doors.

I rejoin them, my heart rate rising with every empty room I uncover. Tension coils so tightly in my gut I can practically feel the ulcers forming, and sweat starts to bead on the back of my neck.

" _H-hey, Mr. Stark, I'm sorry to bother you, I mean, I know you're probably busy…"_

Empty.

Empty.

Empty.

" _H-hey, Mr. Stark, I'm sorry to bother you_ …"

My breath comes sharp and fast through my nose as my pace accelerates until I am moving like a bat out of hell.

" _H-hey, Mr. Stark_ …"

Empty.

Empty.

 _Empty_.

I lunge for the next cell, but freeze in place as I stare at the already opened door. Looking to my right, I can see Barnes and Rogers standing in place, grim expressions on their faces.

They're all empty.

The kid isn't here.

A dull ringing starts in my ears. I would tear through this entire place, search every corridor, every room, every damn closet and rip this facility from its foundations before I would admit that maybe we were wrong. He has to be here. He has to be.

But if he's not… God, if he's _not_ -

The fluorescent lights lining the corridor begin to flicker sporadically.

"Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y.? What's with the light show?" I ask. I can hear the hum of generators rise and lower in volume in unison to the flickering.

" _I'm detecting a massive surge of energy manifesting in sublevel eleven, four floors below. The generators cannot continue to sustain that level of power for much longer without draining all of their systems, including the lights."_

Rogers looks at me sharply, already thinking what I am.

"The kid," he says tightly. "That's gotta be it."

I take off, shifting the majority of the suit's power to my thrusters. I don't wait for the others as I soar down the stairwell head first, pulling up sharply as I reach sublevel eleven. My hands shoot up and blast through the door.

Six Hydra agents are waiting for me.

The two in front drop to the ground as I fire without warning, surging forward to seize a third by his neck. My left palm raises to blast into the fourth before he can shoot his weapon, and he crumples to the ground with a yell of pain.

Lights are still flickering, the periods of darkness lengthening with every second. I throw the agent I still have by the neck into the remaining two, shooting off a taser that tags all three of them at once.

That's when I hear it.

Beneath the undulating hum of the generators, muffled by the thick layers of concrete and reinforced metal doors comes the faint, unmistakable sound of someone screaming in absolute agony.

Blood rushes through my ears as those screams hit me right in my core.

I hear heavy thuds as Barnes and Rogers drop from the stairwell onto the landing behind me, but I am already accelerating down the hall as fast as the suit will take me, thrusting my hands forward at the last minute to blast through the massive set of double doors, crushing the two Hydra agents waiting just beyond them.

I pull up short, hovering midair as I enter the colossal room, and take less than a second to process the horrific sight before me.

A startled bunch of scientists in white lab coats scatter at my entrance, parting enough for me to see what they had been gathering around.

 _Peter_.

The kid is strapped to an upright table, a machine pressing in on either side of his head. His back is arched, and beneath his pale skin I can see all of his muscles and tendons are tense and straining. A rubber bar has been shoved between his teeth and strapped to his head. He is screaming at the top of his lungs, his eyes screwed shut, green light illuminating the tear tracks running down his cheeks.

I see red.

I lunge forward, raising my palm to blast a repulsor beam straight into the machine electrocuting the kid, destroying it instantly, and in seconds I am right in front of him, tearing the broken machine away in a screech of metal and scattering sparks. It's chaos around me as Barnes and Rogers enter the room and start taking down both agents and scientists alike, but I can't focus on anything but the teenager I am freeing.

The kid immediately goes silent and limp the moment the machine is torn from him, his chin hitting his chest even as some of his muscles continue to twitch and spasm.

My hands are already tearing at the thick, weighted straps pinning him down. His body falls heavily forward, and I catch him, quickly easing him to the cement floor.

"Kid! Kid?"

Peter's eyes are closed, his skin whiter than the snow outside, and he doesn't move or make a sound as I carefully lift his head and remove the rubber bar from his mouth.

 _"I am unable to detect a pulse_ ," F.R.I.D.A.Y. says urgently, then adds, " _Mr. Parker is no longer breathing."_

I freeze, my own heart and breath halting in my chest.

No.

 _No_.

No _fucking_ way am I letting this happen.

"Defib, _now_ ," I order the A.I. There's a sharp whine as it charges within the palms of my gauntlets.

" _Charging to five hundred."_

I place both hands on his unmoving chest, one slightly above and to the left of his heart, the other below and to the right. An icon on my face plate monitor alerts me that the defibrillator is fully charged. I inhale sharply-

Peter's eyes fly open just as his right hand shoots up to grip my gauntleted forearm. The metal instantly crumples like a tin can under his grip, and I both hear and feel a crack as the bones in my arm fracture. It must hurt like hell, but I am so fixated on his eyes that I don't feel it right away.

They are entirely and impenetrably black.

My god, what had they _done_ to him?

My mind goes blank with shock, and I am unable to look away from the stark contrast of the pitch black against the pale skin of his face. Blood begins to leak from one of his nostrils.

The kid suddenly gasps sharply, and as he does so, the darkness leaks away from his eyes like water washing away ink. Wide, glassy, warm brown eyes stare up at me as his grip on my gauntlet releases, his hand falling to the ground.

Peter's chest is rising and falling rapidly as he struggles to catch his breath, panic lining his young features. His throat bobs as he swallows with a wince. " ?" he rasps hopefully, his voice entirely hoarse, no doubt ripped to shreds from his screaming.

Ice shudders down my spine as the sound of my name snaps me out of the shocked trance I had fallen into. As I come back to myself, I become horribly aware of the pain lancing hotly through my arm, sharp enough I have to bite back a hiss.

"Hey kid," I manage. I carefully wipe my expression of any pain, any terror I am feeling before raising my face plate. "It's me."

The instant he sees my face, the kid relaxes, practically melting into the floor as his eyes fall shut. A cowardly part of me is terrified of what they will look like when he opens them again. His pale, chapped lips curve up slightly as he breathes, "H-hey. What…took you…so long?"

He's teasing.

The kid is _actually_ teasing me as he lies on the ground of a Hydra facility after being tortured so violently his heart stopped. Though he says it lightly, the words slam into me with a fresh wave of guilty anguish, but I let out a huff of incredulous laughter instead of letting it show.

"You can blame Cap for that one. He insisted on stopping for souvenirs on the way in."

I stiffen as those eyes crack open, but they are mercifully still brown.

"C-captain America's… here?"

There's movement in front of me, and I glance up to see Rogers standing just a few feet away, his eyes fixed on the kid's face, his expression unreadable. When his eyes meet mine, I know instantly from the tightening of his features that he had seen what I had.

I give him the slightest shake of my head. _Later_.

"Yeah, I'm here," he says instead, moving to crouch beside the teenager on his other side. I quickly scan the room, noting the bodies of Hydra soldiers and scientists scattered across the floor. Barnes is by one of the large machines, holding a struggling old man by the throat.

I stand, my eyes boring into the scientist I recognize in an instant, as my blood begins to boil.

"No…no hard feelings…about me, kicking your ass…in Germany, right?" the kid says from where he lays at my feet.

I can hear Steve's smile in his voice as he replies, "No, kid. No hard feelings."

He's ok, I tell myself. The kid is ok. He's alive and breathing and joking with Cap. We made it in time. We found him. None of these assurances calm the roaring in my ears or dull the rage simmering beneath my skin.

I can see Muller's eyes through the cracked glasses adorning his face, and they are staring at Peter in something akin to reverence. My hands curl into fists, agony stabbing into my broken arm from the movement, but it only fuels my need for violence, for retribution.

"Don't look at him," Barnes growls viciously, tightening his grip on the old man's throat. Muller gurgles, his gloved hands scrabbling at the soldier's metal arm.

"Tony," murmurs Steve, but I ignore him, stepping closer to the machines and the monster.

"Nat, what's the word on those files?"

 _"I'm at eighty six percent. They're all encrypted, but the download is nearly complete."_

"What did you do to him," I demand, my voice like steel as I stalk forward, ignoring the pain spreading up my left arm.

Barnes loosens his grip on the man's throat so he can speak. Then the slimy little bastard has the nerve to laugh. Before I can say or do anything, the Winter Soldier snaps the scientist's wrist with a loud, sudden crack. Huh. How 'bout that? The man read my mind.

Muller lets out a sharp cry of pain, his body stiffening as he tries to jerk away from Barnes.

"Tony," Steve says again, his voice laced with warning.

"I don't like repeating myself," I say icily.

The old man is wheezing as he opens his mouth to speak. "We have done…what others could not. We shall be…marked down in history…for our achievement here, today."

Barnes snaps his other wrist, and I am forced to speak over the scientist's agonized groans. "Yeah, sorry, I should have been clearer. I don't like vague, holier-than-thou, 'I'm vastly superior' kind of answers either unless they are coming from me. Care to try again? Or do you want this guy to break something else?"

" _Fools_ ," Muller sneers, his lips curling. "You have come too late to stop us. We have made the greatest weapon this world has ever known. You have all just become _obsolete_."

" _I have the files_ ," Nat suddenly sounds off in our ear pieces. " _We have everything._ "

"Guess that makes _you_ obsolete," I tell Muller.

His eyes just have time to widen a fraction before Barnes slams his metal fist into the man's temple, and the doctor crumples to the ground in a lifeless heap.

"Tony!"

" _What_?" I snap, whirling back to face Rogers.

My eyes fall on the kid, now raised to a half sitting position and leaning against Cap. Peter's eyes have fallen shut again, and even from here I can see how badly his body is shaking. The blood from his nose has trailed down over his cracked lips and across his chin.

"He's burning up," Steve says gravely.

Shit.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., get me his vitals."

" _Boys, we got a problem,_ " Nat's voice is tense.

"Not now," I snap again.

"Yes _, now_ ," she argues back, her voice breathless like she is running. _"Someone's rigged this base to blow. We have about ten minutes before everything goes to hell."_

Goddamn it.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. speaks before I can even open my mouth, her voice strained with energy. " _Sir, due to the location of the facility being centered in the volcanic belt of the peninsula, if it detonates, the resulting explosion will set off a catastrophic chain reaction of both seismic and volcanic activity. The estimated loss of life would be in the millions."_

God _damn_ it.

I meet Steve's eyes with a level look. "You and Barnes get the kid out, now."

"Tony-"

"Nat, please tell me you're already heading for the quinjet. We're going to need a pickup on the roof," I interrupt.

" _I've almost reached the top floor. ETA to the jet is six minutes."_

"Make it four."

"What are you going to do?" Rogers asks, his voice tense, his features strained.

"What I always do," I reply, dropping the face plate. "Improvise and hope to hell it works. Whatever happens, _keep the kid safe._ "

Rogers looks like he wants to argue, but says. "I promise."

I fire up the thrusters in my boots, and then I am soaring out of the room.

* * *

 **A/N: Whoa nelly that was an intense chapter to write! But YAY guys! They finally got him! Not out of the woods yet, though, so don't get too comfortable. More ass kicking action, answers to your questions, and plot twists to come! Stay tuned. As always, I ADORE hearing your thoughts, how you felt reading the chapter, what your theories are, what you think is going to happen next! Reviews are life!**

 **Also, someone commented that my German was accurate which made me so happy, but I can take no credit. All the congratulations goes directly to Google translate. Lol! But I am glad to hear that it is right!**

 **PippinStrange: You da best. Like, da BEST. Like, everyone send her a thank you for being such an awesome beta, because without her, these chapters would be coming a lot slower! She helped me so much!**

 **Leave a review! Part two of the finale hopefully coming soon. :) Much love!**


	8. Don't Fear the Reaper

**Chapter Eight: Don't Fear the Reaper**

 **Steve Rogers**

The teenager's skin is blisteringly hot. I can feel the heat radiating off of his body through the black gloves adorning my hands as I move one across his back and one under his knees to lift him up.

His eyes flash open as he mumbles, "Wss gng nn?"

"Easy, kid. I got you. I'm going to get you out of here," I vow, but he his pushing away from me.

"I cn walk," he protests, his eyes only halfway open and glassy, the blood trailing from his nose vibrant against his pale skin.

"I know you can," I assure him, appeasing his delirium before I gather him in my arms and stand, glancing back at Bucky who is at my side in an instant.

We run from the room without a backward glance, and though I try to keep my motions as smooth and careful as I can, the teen is wincing with every jostling step.

"Whrss...Where's M-Mr. Stark?"

"He's right behind us," I reply, keeping my voice confident as we start ascending the stairs at a rapid pace. Peter is clenching his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut like he is getting dizzy.

I'm no doctor, but the heat this kid is putting off is incredibly alarming, especially coupled with the unanswered question of what exactly the Hydra scientists had done to him. The image of that lab as Bucky and I had bolted after Stark just minutes ago had been jarringly familiar in the worst sort of way. I can't imagine what it must have done to Bucky.

And the kid's eyes…

 _Focus_ , Rogers, I command myself as we move from one level to the next. Get out of here alive first, then deal with the rest later.

" _Multiple hostiles heading your way,_ " Natasha's breathy voice comes through my earpiece. " _Coming from the upper levels. I took down as many as I could, but there's more coming, and I think they have an enhanced._ "

Bucky swears in front of me, removing one of the semi-automatic assault rifles from his back. The time for stealth is long gone.

"How many?" I ask.

" _At least a dozen, maybe more. Don't come up the way you came. Go to sublevel nine. Down the main corridor, there's a private elevator that will take you to the facility's hangar. I'll bring the jet to you there."_

We follow her instructions, heading for the ninth level. Shouts and footsteps are echoing down the stairwell, and a glance up proves Natasha's warning to be correct. The sound of gunfire drowns out all other noise as bullets begin raining down, forcing us to hug close to the wall.

"What about when we reach the elevator?" I ask her, holding the teenager tighter to me. "Won't we need an access code or some kind of security clearance?"

" _Security's already bypassed on it. I had to find some way to pass the time while downloading all of their files. I've learned it's always good to have a backup exit."_

Ahead of me, Bucky has reached the landing of sublevel nine, and weapon raised, he kicks open the door. I adjust my grip on the nearly unconscious teenager and follow Bucky through the threshold into a narrow hallway that ends in a set of double doors.

The kid's quiet, and as we rush down the hall, I glance down to see his eyes are closed, his body limp. Alarm hits me in a rush.

"Hey! Kid, you still with me?"

He startles slightly at the sound of my voice and blinks blearily, squinting up at me in confusion. "Whn...when did you...have time to grow...a beard?"

I let out an incredulous, slightly amused huff, despite my worry about how delirious he is from his fever and from whatever had been done to him. "It's been awhile since we last saw each other, you know. More than enough time to grow a beard."

"...oh...right," he murmurs, and I quicken my pace to keep up with Bucky, who has nearly reached the doors leading to the main corridor. "Ned...tried once-to grow a beard, I mean...only got like...four hairs...He looked ridiculous."

I'm about to respond as I follow Bucky through the doorway into the massive main hall, but stop short, my reply frozen in my throat. Bucky is deathly still a few paces in front of me to my right, his gun raised and ready to fire.

No less than twenty heavily armed Hydra agents are waiting for us halfway down the large, open space. Behind me, I can hear the sounds of the rapidly approaching soldiers coming down the stairwell.

We are surrounded.

A man in the center steps forward. My eyes quickly take in the medals adorning his chest, his proud, confident stance, the smirk curving his thin lips, the wizened lines around his eyes and mouth. This man is an officer, the commander of this facility.

"Soldier," he nods to Bucky, who stiffens, before the man's eyes meet mine. "Captain. Despite the circumstances, it is an honor to meet you both."

"I wish I could say the same, but there's no honor in meeting a man who tortures children."

A smile curves his lips as he shakes his head. "Torture? Surely you of all people can tell the difference between scientific advancement and something so medieval as _torture_. As much as I would love to discuss the ethics of it all with you, Mr. Rogers, I'm afraid we are rather pressed for time. Or, rather, you are."

His dark, triumphant eyes shift down to rest on the teenager in my arms, making my fingers tighten against Peter's skin in response. The Hydra officer takes the slightest step forward, as if he can't help himself. Bucky shifts his gun slightly as he says in a voice made of ice, "Take one more step, and I put a hole in your head."

The officer raises his hands in a placating gesture, that damn smirk still adorning his face. "By now, I am sure you realize, none of you are leaving this facility with your lives. Hand over the boy, and I can promise you honorable deaths."

"Not gonna happen," I shoot back. My mind is racing, scrambling for a way to get us out of this. "Stand down. There's no time for this. The longer we all stay here, the less time we have to get out of range before this place blows sky high. Last I checked, suicide wasn't in Hydra's definition of an _honorable death._ "

The commander's face splits into a grin, his teeth bared as lines crinkle across his forehead and around his mouth. The look is so smug, so full of self satisfaction, I want to slam my fist straight into those teeth. I am honestly surprised Bucky hasn't shot him yet. "It wasn't easy, you know, coming up with a way to fool the famous Avengers, to trick not only the Black Widow, but Tony Stark and his _superior A.I._. There is no bomb, Captain. We would not give up our investments so easily."

My heart stops as my stomach sinks somewhere beneath my feet.

"I've arranged for a special surprise for the great Tony Stark. There's someone I am anxious for him to meet."

The enhanced.

"And I fear the Black Widow won't be making it to your jet hidden just beyond the peak, either."

Silence is ringing in my ears, where there should be a steady, faint hum from my communicator. They've jammed our communications. Divided us. Triggered their traps. Ice replaces the blood in my veins.

"So you see, Captain, there is no point in haggling for young Mr. Parker. Your colleagues are likely dead already, or soon to be. There is no escape for you here. No victory. Only surrender. Hand over the boy, and drop your weapons."

Fear clenches my gut.

 _Natasha_.

 _Tony_.

I have to believe that they are holding their own, that they are fighting their way out of whatever horrible thing Hydra has set loose upon them. We will have to do the same.

I feel more than see the tension coiling within Bucky as he prepares to act. I know him, know that he will unleash himself upon these soldiers, cut through them, do whatever he has to do in order to buy even the slightest chance for me to get the kid out of here.

But we will lose.

We've faced horrible odds before. Faced them. Beat them. But the circumstances here are vastly different. I can't help him fight, not with the fevered teenager in my arms. Setting the teenager down in order to defend him isn't an option either. The risk of him being snatched away while we take down Hydra agents is too high.

I feel now more than ever the absence of the shield that used to rest across my back or in the palm of my hand.

Damn it. I should have insisted we stay together. I should have-

Peter stirs in my arms, and I automatically tighten my hold on him. He is shifting, pushing away from me with strength he shouldn't have.

No.

I know what he is doing, know that this kid will offer himself up to the murderous psychopaths that had captured and experimented on him if there is a possibility that we will be spared. Even without my promise to Tony ringing in my ears, I would never let that happen.

His bare feet hit the floor as he maneuvers his way out of my arms to stand. I seize his upper arm, but as he glances back at me, I freeze, alarm stilling my limbs, my blood, my breath.

The eyes looking back at me are completely black.

There is no sign at all of the fevered, weakened teenager in his face, in his stance. His spine is straight, his hands are curled into fists, his expression completely blank. It's like looking at a stranger. Shock has loosened my grip, and he pulls easily away from me to step towards the Hydra officer.

The man's eyes are alight with awe, with victory as he holds out his hand towards the boy. "Remarkable," he breathes.

Bucky doesn't lower his gun or shift his stance, but our eyes meet, and I know he can read the panic in mine. How bad will this fight get, if we are also forced to bring down the kid in order to save him?

Peter takes another step, and I prepare to lunge for him. How the hell is he even _standing_ right now?

"Come here, boy," the Hydra Commander orders.

The teenager's head tilts to the side slightly, as if considering, assessing.

Then I watch in stunned horror as darkness begins to shroud him. It emerges from his chest, a pitch black mass of tendril-like shadows stretching, growing, spreading over him and enveloping him like a second, synthetic skin. In seconds, the teenager is completely covered, save for two pale lenses covering his eyes.

"My God," I breathe.

Whatever it was beneath his skin, it had mimicked his Spider-man suit, and like a threatened animal, had covered itself in a natural armor. _Kid, what did they do to you?_

The Hydra officer's eyes are round, his jaw slack as he stares in open wonder. " _Unglaublich._ "

Peter moves so fast, if I had blinked in that moment, I would have missed it. The kid's right arm shoots out, and from his wrist, a black web propels towards the man, wrapping itself around his neck. The Hydra officer chokes, eyes bulging as Peter yanks back on the web, drawing back his fist as the man comes flying towards him in a blur of movement. The moment the kid's fist meets the man's chest, his body goes soaring back, slamming into the far wall with a loud crack as the cement splinters around him before his body crumples to the ground and doesn't move again.

The Hydra agents, who had half turned to watch their leader's impact against the well, turn back towards us, their fear and confusion apparent in their stiff, jerky movements as they half raise their guns. They had planned on killing us and recapturing a nearly unconscious teen. They hadn't prepared for the possibility that the kid would fight back. Now, they can't decide whether to attack before they meet the same fate as their head officer, or follow their previous orders to capture Peter alive.

Peter doesn't wait for them to make a decision, and in a shadowy blur, far faster than I remember him being, he strikes.

And then there is no time to marvel at how the kid, who could barely keep his eyes open just minutes ago, is fighting at a strength and speed that should be possible. No time to worry about what those scientists had done to his body, what that darkness was, or if he is making his injuries worse as he strikes. There's no time to do anything but fight, and hope to god we all make it out of this alive.

Bucky doesn't miss a beat. He whirls, facing the soldiers who had cut of our retreat in the narrow hall behind us. He tugs one, then a second grenade from his belt, launching them into the middle of their uniformed grouping before opening fire with his semi-automatic.

I charge forward after the kid as several Hydra agents raise their weapons directly at me. I am on them before they can fire, jumping into the air and landing right in the middle of them. They spin, but I am already seizing one around his neck, using him as a human shield as one of their weapons discharges. His body jerks in my grasp from the impact, and then I throw his body forward, using the cover to lunge forward and slam my fist into an agent's face with a resounding crack.

There's movement behind me. I drive my elbow back in a swift movement, the man gurgling as it slams into his throat. Another charges at me from my left, and I catch sight of the glint of a knife. I reach behind me, seizing the still choking agent and flipping him over my shoulder so that he is in front of me right as the second agent slashes with the knife.

The man groans as the blade cuts into him and drops to the ground, his colleague drawing back in surprise. I jump up in the air, delivering a spinning kick that sends him flying backwards into two more men.

There's a rush of movement at my back, and I spin, raising my fists. But the man in front of me stiffens, the electrically charged weapons in his hands clattering to the ground as he falls forward, a knife in his back.

Bucky is just behind him, raising his gun straight at me. He lets off two shots in rapid succession, and I glance behind me to see two more Hydra agents drop.

"We have this," he says. Another agent rushes him, and Bucky doesn't even bother looking, just draws back his metal arm when the man is close enough and slams his fist into the guard's skull. "Go find Stark. I'll get the kid out of here."

The promise I made Tony is ringing in my ears, and I hesitate long enough for an agent to surge at me from my right. I seize the metal rod the other had dropped seconds before, still crackling with electricity, and drive it into his chest before crashing my fist into his jaw.

" _Steve_ ," Bucky growls as he blocks gun shots with his metal arm, sparks flying. " _Go_."

Tony trusted me to get the teenager out of here safely. I had to trust Bucky to do the same. Tony had walked straight into a trap, and with an enhanced involved, he needed me more than Peter did. I cast a swift glance towards the kid, still encased with black and brutally taking down Hydra agents, before I bolt for the door.

* * *

 **Bucky Barnes**

My rage is a living thing, turning my blood to ice. It fuels my body more than any stimulant or super-soldier serum ever could.

Being here, in this facility, so similar to the hellish places of my past, had ignited a violent spark deep in my gut. The sight of the kid strapped down in that machine, the sounds of his agonizing screams, had fanned it into a open flame.

But it was _this_ moment, where the commander of the base had stepped forward and blathered on about _wrecking_ that child like it had been some kind of achievement, some kind of triumph, that had turned that fire into an endless, icy rage. It sweeps through me, sending me over the edge into a stillness so profound, I see everything with brutal clarity.

A killing calm.

So when the kid is the first to strike, leaping into the center of the fray, it snaps the leash I had, up until now, kept upon myself.

I cut down the Hydra soldiers with savage efficiency, emptying the ammunition in my semi-automatic rifle before moving into close quarters. I can see the fear in the men's eyes as I near, can practically taste their terror as they lash out at me in desperation. It stirs no pity within my heart, nothing even remotely merciful.

I raise my bionic arm, deflecting a wild slash of a knife before seizing the man wielding it and snapping his neck. Stalking forward, I catch sight of Steve, his back turned as an agent advances on him with electrified, metal rods.

A knife from my belt is in my hands in a second, and leaving it in the next. There's a dull thud as it embeds itself into the man's back. Steve whirls, his fists raised, ready to fight, but the fight is once again behind him. My pistol is already raised, firing off two shots with unwavering accuracy. Steve, to his credit, doesn't flinch.

"We have this," I tell him. An agent rushes me, but I keep my eyes on Steve as my fist shoots out to slam into his temple. "Go find Stark. I'll get the kid out of here."

He hesitates long enough for us both to be attacked again. I have to raise my metal arm to deflect the gunfire raining down on me. " _Steve_ ," I growl. " _Go_."

There isn't time to hesitate.

Not when we are so vastly outnumbered. Not when we have let ourselves walk straight into a trap. Not when Stark needed him more than we did.

My eyes bore into the man still discharging his weapon in a spattering of bullets, all of which bounce harmlessly off of my left arm in a flash of sparks. I see his face pale, and suddenly, the rapid fire ceases, releasing a series of clicks as it empties.

He screams as I storm for him, lifting him up by the collar of his uniform before slamming him into the wall, cracks splintering through the cement from the impact. I spin, dodging a fist aiming for my head before seizing the agent's second fist and crushing it with my unrelenting, metal grip. I cut off his scream with a brutal jab to his throat, then drive my elbow into his skull. He drops, and I finally catch sight of the kid.

When I had first encountered him in Germany, the teenager had been eager, his moves strong, agile, but untrained. He'd been easily distracted, easily excitable, and, I remember with unmistakable clarity, he hadn't been able to stop _talking_.

If I hadn't watched the black mass emerge from his body and shroud him in a protective, armor like suit, I never would have believed it was the same person.

Black and sleek, he is more shadow than human, ruthlessly taking down Hydra agents before they even know he is there. He doesn't utter a single word as he moves almost too fast to see, and where he does appear, soldiers drop like flies.

My hands curl into fists, the icy rage within me growing so palpable, I swear the temperature around me drops several degrees. The men around me certainly seem to sense it, as instead of charging at me in my brief moment of distraction, they had hesitated.

It would be the last mistake these monstrous bastards would ever make.

I stalk forward two steps before sending my foot slamming into the nearest agent's chest so hard, I feel the bones in his ribcage shatter. A knife is thrusting for my face. I dodge it with a swift step back, then wrap my fingers around the man's throat, punching him across his face once, twice, three times before flipping him over my shoulder.

His knife flies into the air as he drops, and I catch it before driving it into another agents chest. Two more rush me from either side. My pistols are already in my hands, and I pull the triggers before they can get within four feet of me.

And then, as suddenly as the fight had begun, it ended.

The massive corridor is absolutely littered with bodies and discarded weapons, my final gunshots echoing loudly across the room. Darkness moves in swiftly from my peripherals, and I whirl, fists raised.

But I am not fast enough, and a hand has me by the throat, my feet lifting off the floor before I can make a move to defend myself. My hands seize the arm holding me as I stare down at my own reflection in the kid's pale white lenses. It is eerie, how identical it is to his Spiderman suit, eerier still how the black seems to ripple slightly, like it is alive.

The hand begins to tighten around my throat, and I tighten my own grip on his arm in response, clenching my teeth as I grit out, " _Kid_."

His lenses narrow, contracting slightly as he squeezes tighter, and I know I only have the breath for one more word before my airway is closed off entirely.

" _Peter_."

The teenager goes utterly still, the lenses covering his eyes retracting to their normal size. I don't make a move to shove him away from me, even though I know one well placed kick will force him to release his grip on my throat. I wait, and after a tense, brief moment, he lets go.

I rub my throat slightly as my boots hit the ground, keeping my eyes trained on him. I am wary, hesitant as I try to decipher just who is in control, the kid, or the monster Hydra had put inside him.

"Peter?" I say again.

His stance relaxes slightly, his shoulders slumping. The black suit seems to melt off his body in a sudden rush, easing down his face, up his legs and arms until it converges on his chest, just above his heart before vanishing completely. The moment it is gone, his legs buckle, and I lunge forward to catch him before he collapses.

"Easy," I murmur as I pull his arm across my shoulders, and slide one hand around him to keep him steady. "I got you."

Heat radiates from his pale skin, and I can feel his muscles trembling beneath my hand. The kid's head lolls back as he looks up at me, his eyes glassy and dazed as fresh blood pours freely from his nose. He takes in a shaky breath, his chapped lips parting like he wants to say something, but instead of words he releases a wheezing breath.

I tighten my grip on him, half dragging, half carrying him to the elevator doors at the end of the corridor. His bare feet stumble on the cement floor, but my hold on him is strong. I won't let him fall.

We reach the elevator, stepping inside, turning and catching our final glimpse of the carnage we leave behind us before the doors slide shut with a soft ding that seems outrageously out of place. My stomach lurches ever so slightly as we begin to ascend, heading for the private hangar. I can only hope that Romanov was able to fight her way out of whatever horrors Hydra had sent for her, and that she will be waiting for us. But if she hadn't, I would get the kid onto the fastest jet I could find.

The kid's rapid breaths fill the silence as the elevator continues its ascent. I want to say something, want to offer him some comfort, some assurance, but I know better than anyone else that the words would be empty. Nothing will change what happened to him. Nothing will make this okay.

But I tighten my hold on him, pulling him closer as I keep a steady hand against his fevered skin, his arm still draped over my shoulders as he leans against me.

There's another gentle ding as the elevator doors open, not in front of us, but behind. Slowly, we turn, the kid stiffening in my grasp as we face the open hangar.

And the line of Hydra soldiers assembled before us, their weapons raised.

* * *

 **Steve Rogers**

The metal railing surrounding the landing of the stairwell looms before me as I bolt down the hall. I make no effort to slow down, but leap the moment I am near it, my hands wrapping around the top bar as I propel myself over it and free fall down the center of the stairs. Wind blasts across my face as I drop feet first.

When Tony had blasted off to dismantle the bomb, I had seen him head down, deeper into the facility, so that's where I will follow. Apprehension tightens my gut, and despite my fierce determination that we will all somehow get out of this, there is a steady whisper in the back of my mind that matches the beating of my heart.

 _Too late, too late, too late._

I clench my teeth together as the ground beneath me grows larger. I keep my knees light as I slam into the cement, my hands shooting out to balance myself as I land in a crouch. I freeze for a moment, staring down the long hallway at the shattered remains of the door scattered at the very end of it. _Tony_.

I surge to my feet, racing forward as fast as I can, my footsteps echoing far too loudly. I slow as I reach the door, my senses suddenly on high alert. I pull a pistol from the holster on my belt, raising it before me as I step over the crumpled shards of metal door, still smoldering at the edges.

I enter the room, a dark maze of steel pipes, towering cement columns, massive generators, and walls of machinery. My eyes quickly take in the scorch marks on the floor, the chunks of metal equipment and frayed wires, the sparks shooting off the ends. The room is filled with noise, the loud hum from the generators, the hiss of steam, the crackle of electricity, and the heavy clunk of gears grinding, but no sounds of a scuffle, no whine from the blast of a repulsor beam, or cries of pain.

Something went down here. A fight, a big one, by the looks of it, between Iron-man and the Hydra enhanced.

 _Too late, too late, too late._

I keep my movements slow, cautious, as I ease down the center of the room, my eyes and ears straining for any sign of Tony or the enhanced. I scan the darkness, keeping my gun poised in front of me. They have to know I am here. My approach wasn't exactly subtle. So where _are_ they?

I reach a crossroads, an intersection of four pathways through the labyrinthine network of machinery. There's a soft clanking sound that breaks through the din of noise down towards my right, and I whirl, aiming my pistol into the darkness.

"Tony?" I call as I move towards the noise, though I have a bad feeling that it is more likely I am heading straight for the enhanced.

I head deeper into the darkness, small orange and green lights on the machinery blinking at me as I pass by. The generator beside me on my right is emitting a loud hum of noise, and as I move forward, it begins to grow louder and louder. I pause, eyeing it and taking a step away as it begins to shudder and groan, the dials and meters adorning the side of it suddenly going haywire.

I move just in time, spinning to my left and firing my gun as electricity surges for me like lightning. I drop to the ground, rolling as I feel the heat of the energy surging above my head. I let out two more shots and lunge to my feet.

A man emerges from the shadows, a hulking behemoth, bald and covered in severe burns that stretch up the side of his facelike forks of lightning. His narrow eyes are glowing a pale blue as he grins at me, and my gaze shoots down to his hands that are covered in sparks and offshoots of electricity.

He rears back, raising his hand as his fingers twist into claws, tiny forks of lightning weaving between them before he thrusts his arm forward, and crackling light blasts from his palm, shooting straight for me.

I dive to the side, dropping my gun and grunting as my shoulder slams into the generator. I'm forced to roll forward, dropping to the ground and somersaulting to avoid another blast before I surge to my feet. My fist collides with the massive man's jaw before I put all my weight on my left leg to deliver a violent kick to the center of his chest.

He stumbles back, but I don't want to give him another chance to strike. I leap into the air, seizing one of the many metal bars above me and swinging to slam both feet into him, dropping back to the ground as he grunts in pain from the blow. I throw another punch, aiming for his nose, but he grabs my fist and jabs his other hand into my exposed side.

I yell through clenched teeth, my eyes screwing shut in pain as white hot energy surges into my body, and then pain explodes into my jaw, and I am flying back.

I land hard, the breath driving out of my lungs, but I roll to the side and stagger to my feet.

The enhanced is nowhere in sight.

I spin, my gaze shooting down each dark path for any sign of him. A man that size shouldn't be able to move that fast, or completely disappear like that.

The hair on the back of my neck raises, and I can feel static electricity crackling across my back. I whirl, driving my fist into his gut as he appears behind me. He bows over in pain, and I drop to the ground, pushing my weight onto my hands as I sweep my leg underneath him, sending him crashing to the ground. I'm on my feet, pulling a second gun from the holster on my belt and aiming it down at him in a flash, but he roars, thrusting both palms towards me.

Bright light sears my eyes as lightning slams into me, my body flying into the air, spinning as I crash through metal and wires and tumble onto the ground. My jaw clenches as I let out a grunt of pain, my chest smoldering from the painful blow. I roll over onto my stomach, trying to push to my feet. I glance up, my eyes widening.

"Tony."

The Iron-man suit is on the ground, leaning against the wall with the helmet bowed, the lights emitting from its chest and eyes dim.

A shaky groan slips out of me as I push myself up, pain searing through my chest from the movement. "Tony!"

The enhanced crashes into me, slamming into the wall and pinning me there with a massive forearm against my throat. My hands shoot up to yank it away from me as he laughs darkly, his eyes glowing fiercely as he raises his free hand. Electricity surges from his fingertips, casting shadows across his horribly scarred face, and then he presses his hand directly above my heart.

Pain sears into my body, an intense burn that has my muscles convulsing and straining to escape it. I am screaming, my teeth clenched as my fingers dig into the arm pinning me to the wall.

Beyond the sounds of my screams, I hear a familiar whine, a build up of energy, and then the arm holding me is gone, and I fall to my hands and knees. My chest is on fire, and I struggle to catch my breath as I glance up.

Tony is on his feet, his good arm aimed straight at the enhanced, his palm glowing. The Hydra agent laughs to my right as he stands, sparks crackling around his eyes, his fingertips. "Go ahead," he sneers at Iron-man. "Any energy blast from your little toy only feeds my power, makes me stronger."

"I'm counting on it, Freddy Kreuger," Tony replies steely, and pours every bit of power he can into his remaining repulsor beam. A wide shaft of white light shoots from his palm, blasting right for the enhanced's chest. The man staggers back slightly, but laughs shakily as he begins to absorb the energy.

His eyes glow brighter and brighter with each passing second, the sparks on his fingertips turning into fully fledged tendrils of electricity. The enhanced grins wildly as he steps forward, pushing farther into the beam, taking in more and more.

I catch on to Tony's plan as he pours more power into the blast. Looking around me, the room now entirely illuminated from the searing light emitting from the pair of them, I catch sight of a pipe attached to the wall on my right, a thin current of steam shooting out from a crack across its side.

Lightning is now shooting wildly from where the enhanced is slowly edging forward, his eyes so bright I can no longer look directly at them. A stray bolt skims the floor at my feet, forcing me to jerk back against the wall.

I turn, bracing myself against the wall as I kick out against the pipe, which splits in two from the blow. Steam pours out in a rush of heat, and I seize the line with both hands, thrusting it at the enhanced.

He screams as he is instantly enveloped in a massive cloud of steam. The amount of power he has absorbed from Tony's suit is too much for him to handle, and coupled with the incredibly conductive molecules from the steam, his body goes into overdrive. Electricity shoots out wildly, bursts of sparks and lightning surging from him as the volume of his screams intensify.

I dive forward, tackling Tony to the ground and covering my head with my hands as there is a massive crack like thunder, followed by a searing light and rush of intense heat.

When the light dies down, I lift my head, blinking at the utterly destroyed technology all around us and the scorch marks covering every remaining surface. The enhanced is gone, his body ripped apart from the force of the explosion.

Tony sits up with a groan. "I'm just going to say it. That was a shocking development. No, wait, I can do better than that, hang on," he stops suddenly, the glowing eyes of his helmet boring into me as if he suddenly realizes that it is me on the ground beside him, instead of with the teenager I promised I would keep safe.

"Tony-"

"Where's the kid?" his voice is like ice.

"He's fine, he's with Bucky-"

"I'm sorry, _what_?"

"We were ambushed," I say as I push myself to my feet, holding out a hand to help him up. He brushes it aside, shoving himself up with his good arm. "They told us you were in trouble, that you were likely dead already."

"Let me get this straight," he says, and I can hear his teeth gritting together behind that helmet as we both take off towards the room's exit. "You were ambushed, and you thought it would be a good idea to leave the unconscious, gravely injured teenager with _Barnes_ , surrounded by _Hydra_ in order to come give me a hand?"

"Well, when you put it that way-"

"What the hell, Rogers?!"

"Tony, you were walking into a trap. They had sent the enhanced after you," I shoot back. "You needed help."

It is an effort to keep up as I sprint beside him, his thrusters firing off loudly as he soars down the narrow hallway.

"I don't care if they had sent an army of Chitauri after me that had strung me up and used me as a pinata! You were supposed to get the kid out of here. Or did you miss the point of this entire mission?"

We reach the stairwell, Tony pulling up short and hovering slightly off the ground. I get no warning as he seizes me underneath my arms, and then my stomach is lurching beneath my feet as he takes off at top speed, soaring up in a blur of motion.

"I didn't just abandon them, Tony. They looked like they had everything under control by the time I left to find you."

"What the hell do you mean, _'they_ had everything under control'?"

"Sublevel nine," I tell him quickly before he can pass it, realizing he hadn't known about the change in the escape plan.

He pulls up on the landing and releases me without a word. I land lightly on my feet and bolt down the narrow hall to the main corridor, Tony right behind me. A small mass of bodies litters the ground at my feet, smoldering still from the grenades Bucky had launched at them.

We stop for a moment as we enter the massive hall, staring in shock at the massacre of bodies spread across the room.

"Jesus," I breathe, doing a quick sweep for any sign of Bucky or Peter. Seeing no sign of either of them, I run for the elevator. Tony passes me, the heat from his thrusters blasting into my face.

"What the hell _happened_?" he snaps as we reach the elevator. " _Where are they_?"

"We were out of options," I start as the doors slide shut and we shoot up. "Then the kid just…"

His head snaps towards me, his undamaged hand curling into a fist. "The kid _what_?"

"His eyes went black again," I say finally. "One second he was nearly passed out, the next he was standing, and his body was being covered in some kind of synthetic, black suit. He launched himself at them, started taking them down like it was nothing."

Tony curses violently, his arm making a jerking movement like he wants to punch a hole through the elevator or run his hand through his hair but can do neither.

The elevator jerks to a halt, and we whirl as the doors open behind us. Jogging forward onto a large landing overlooking the wide hangar, we stare down at even more Hydra agents strewn across the ground, the stairs, near the walls.

God, how many had there been?

My eyes find the quinjet in the center of the hangar, the turbines whirring loudly as the ramp in the back begins to slowly lower to the ground.

Tony and I exchange a glance before he is lifting me into the air again, depositing me at the foot of the ramp and not waiting as he bursts inside. I jog up the ramp, slightly breathless and wide eyed as I scan the interior of the jet.

My eyes find Bucky first, and I can see blood splattered on the dark metal of his arm, but no sign of any injuries. His face is grim as he nods at me from where he stands over a small, huddled figure. Stepping deeper into the jet, I watch as Tony approaches the kid, removing the helmet from his head with one hand.

I glance towards the cockpit, where Natasha is closing the ramp and firing up the thrusters. She looks back at me, and I can see a thin cut sliced across her cheek, a bruise blossoming on her jaw, but she looks otherwise unharmed.

"Let's get the hell out of here," she says, and then the quinjet is speeding forward and lifting out into the open air.

* * *

 **A/N: Don't worry, this isn't the end! We have a few more chapters at least before this story is finished. Sorry this one took me so long, but it is a very long chapter and was difficult to write. Everyone thank PippinStrange for being the world's best beta, and then go read her incredible Avengers/Spiderman story Down Came the Rain, if you aren't already. SO flipping good!**

 **I've decided, since you guys have been sooooo nice with your reviews, to reply to all of you here, at the end of my chapter! So, without further ado...**

 **story2tell: thanks, I hope so too! ;)**

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 **Thespianpoet: Lol! That is hilarious that you skipped down because the suspense got to you. Totally something I would do. Several more chapters await before I wrap this up, but there may or may not be a sequel in the works :O**

 **Phoenixhp5: Thank you SO much! I love writing Tony's POV as well! :)**

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 **Hina Yagami: I am going to try and use google translate, so sorry if my Portuguese is not accurate. :)** **Uau! Muito obrigado por sua maravilhosa revisão! Isso me deixa tão feliz que tanto você quanto sua irmã gostam da minha história! Eu também estou feliz agora, que eu coloquei Steve no Brasil para começar! Obrigado novamente! Muito amor!**

* * *

 **Whew! That was a lot! You guys are AMAZING! As always, please continue to leave your thoughts! I love hearing them so much! I had the next chapter written, but my computer ate it, so it may be a few days before the next update. :( Like I said, more answers to come, and perhaps we will be seeing someone else from the MCU show up? XD Much love, guys!**


	9. The Show Must Go On

**Chapter Nine: The Show Must Go On**

* * *

 **Peter Parker**

Consciousness comes in waves, the ebb and flow of a dark, hazy ocean. My body is adrift; in one moment floating in an endless sea of black, the next being jostled and dragged, a strong arm around me. I don't have the strength or the will to fight against the shadows dragging me down, or the lights and sounds yanking me back up.

I have never felt so drained, so cut off from my own body. My head is a thick, heavy cloud, my limbs weighed down and useless. The only constant in all of this dizzying confusion is the unfathomably cold fragment nestled in my chest. My skin is burning, I can feel the fever ravaging through my body, the sheen of sweat covering me from head to toe, but the heat cannot melt that ice, can't even come close.

I am pulled again from the darkness as I am lowered to the ground. My legs stretch out before me, and my back leans against cold metal, my head lolling forward. Immediately, gravity begins pulling on me, like it knows I am weak and useless and wants to take advantage of it. My upper body tilts to the side, falling, but a large hands grip my shoulders, steadying me.

Dazed, I blink up at the face that is inches from my own, my burning eyes struggling to focus. I take in the sight before me in gradual pieces; dark, wavy hair, a furrowed brow, sharp gray blue eyes, a tight frown.

It takes me too long to place him. Thinking feels like I am trudging through tar, thick and sluggish.

The Winter Soldier.

I drift again, and when I come back, a thick, heavy blanket is wrapped around my body, the scratchy material irritating and uncomfortable against my overly sensitive, heated skin. I grunt, shifting as I try to will my arms to rise up from the ground and push it off of me, but they won't obey.

Stupid, useless body.

"Leave it," says a deep, steady voice. I look up blearily at the Winter Soldier standing over me. There are bright lights above him, behind him, sending stabs of pain through my eyes into my skull, and casting the man into a dark, shadowed silhouette.

My eyes squeeze shut, and I turn away, leaning my head back against the chilled wall.

"Can you do something about those lights?" the man's voice asks suddenly.

Seconds later, a sigh of relief escapes my dry lips as the room goes darker.

"Here."

Something is placed against my mouth, and panic seizes my chest as I flash to a rubber bar shoved being between my teeth. But cool liquid pours over my bottom lip and washes over my bone-dry tongue. Water. If I had any strength in my body, I would be surging forward and downing the entire bottle in one, desperate go. Instead, I am forced to remain still as I swallow the trickle of water at an achingly slow pace.

The bottle is drawn away before I am ready for it to be gone.

Still, the tightness in my throat has eased significantly, and I can swallow a lot easier.

"Th-thanks," I rasp.

I must drift away for a moment, because I jolt awake at the cacophony of noises suddenly slamming into my eardrums. Whirs of machinery, the roar of thrusters, the impact of boots clanging on metal grating, voices.

I lift my head from the wall, blinking heavily as red and gold fill my vision. There's a hissing sound, followed by several metal thunks and a grunt of pain before is kneeling in front of me, free of his suit.

"How ya doin, half pint?" he asks, his voice oddly gentle, out of place with the intensity in his eyes, the tension lining his face.

"I-I've been...better," I say hoarsely, my lips curving slightly.

"Yeah, no kidding," Mr. Stark's brown eyes bore into mine so intently, I start to feel uncomfortable, like he's waiting for something, and I don't know what it is. Then he sighs through his nose and looks me over before finally saying, "Damn, kid. You just took away twenty years of my life."

"...Sorry?"

"Don't be sorry. Just...try not to do that to me again," he says, and I can tell he is only half joking.

"Y-yeah, ok," I agree.

"Tony," another voice calls, and as Mr. Stark shifts and turns, I see Captain America standing a few feet behind him.

"What?" Mr. Stark's voice is tight, more angry than it had been a moment ago.

The two begin conversing, but my attention drifts over them, falling across the high tech consoles and monitors, the cases of equipment, the cockpit littered in an array of multicolored lights and different sized knobs and switches. My gaze flits across the Black Widow, seated before it, who's...blonde now? huh...before drifting over the now seated form of the Winter Soldier near the back of the space.

I'm in the quinjet.

I'm in the quinjet, with the _Avengers_.

They'd come for me. All these people had come for me. Mr. Stark had come. They'd gotten me out. I...I was _out_. I had survived, and they had come for me, and I was safe, and they were going to take me _home_.

Relief slams into me like a wrecking ball, hitting so hard and so fast, I immediately feel a massive lump in my throat, and my eyes squeeze shut against the sudden warmth I feel beneath my lids. My lips curve up, and I am barely able to hold back a sob.

"He's smiling. Why the hell is he smiling?" Mr. Stark asks, his voice alarmed. "Is he going into shock? Did we check for that? Hey! Kid, talk to me a sec. Open those peepers for me."

I obey, grateful that I am able to swallow back the tears before opening my eyes. His shoulders slump. "What's with the smile, Pete? You getting hysterical on me?"

Oddly enough, that comment makes a frenzied laugh bubble up in my chest, but I push it down. That would probably push Mr. Stark's blood pressure to dangerous levels.

"Just...relieved," I tell him, huddling deeper in the scratchy blanket as a chill wracks my fevered body. "I didn't-for a moment, I….Just, just, _thank_ you, Mr. Stark."

"C'mon, you didn't think I'd leave you in that hell hole, did you?"

I hadn't. Except for a brief, horrible moment. I can suddenly feel the table beneath my back, the heavy straps cinching tightly around my body, the needle plunging into my chest as my teeth clench hard around the bar forced in my mouth.

My heart rate shoots up, and it is suddenly much harder to breathe.

Two chilled fingers press against my neck. "Hey," Mr. Stark says suddenly. " _Hey_. Quit it. Take a deep breath. Tell me what's going on."

I feel a sudden, inexplicable rush of shame. It burns hotly in my gut, like I know I have done something unforgivable, and saying the words out loud will change everything. But I am terrified, _terrified_ of what they did to me, and like a kid who has broken their favorite toy, I am desperate for the adult to fix it. My throat swells, my eyes grow wet, and to my horror, my chin actually begins to wobble. God, I'm pathetic.

My voice cracks as I finally speak. "Th-they," I swallow thickly and try again. "They p-put something... _inside_ me…"

I can't bear to look at Mr. Stark's face anymore so I squeeze my eyes shut, causing the tears to roll hotly down my cheeks. "S-something... _alive_ ," my voice drops to a hoarse whisper. "God, I can..I can still _f-feel_ it."

Beneath the blanket, my trembling hand grasps at my chest, my nails scrabbling at the skin like I can claw it out of me. It's there, just beneath the skin, throbbing slightly, like a second heartbeat. The thought makes my stomach lurch with nausea.

The jet is utterly silent, and I can feel the stares boring into me. I pull the blanket tighter around my body, and I am hit with the childish impulse to hide beneath it.

"Peter."

Mr. Stark hardly ever uses my full name, and the sternness in his voice has me looking back at him, bracing myself.

"We're going to figure this out," he tells me, his voice so sure, so solid, I can't help but start to believe him. "Okay? I need you to hear me on this one. We're going to find a way to get that thing out of you. I promise."

I nod, closing my eyes, wishing I could stop the flow of tears. God, what must they think of me?

Another chill descends down my spine and skitters across my skin. I can feel the heat radiating off my body absorbing into the blanket, but I am freezing; a deep and inescapable cold that refuses to surrender its icy grip.

A shudder, unable to curl in tighter to myself because I am so freaking _weak_.

There's movement against the blanket on my left side, and my eyes open in surprise as a tentative, awkward arm is placed across my shoulders. "We got you, kid. We got you," Mr. Stark murmurs.

He holds himself stiffly, obviously unused to offering physical comfort. After a tense, unsure moment, I lean further into him slightly and try to control my shaking. The jet is quiet, the hum of the thrusters and Mr. Stark's steady breathing forming some kind of weird, soothing white noise that begins to lull me back into the darkness.

I try to keep myself awake, I really do. But eventually, my impossibly heavy head is too much for my neck to hold up, and I feel it hit his shoulder as my breathing begins to even out. It's incredibly uncomfortable. His shoulder is hard and bony and digging into my cheekbone, and the arm that is draped over me is tense.

But I've never felt safer.

My eyes fall shut, and I drift away.

* * *

 **Tony Stark**

"How's he doing?" Steve asks, keeping his voice low as he eases to the ground to sit across from me, his back against the jet's center console.

I glance down at the teenager fast asleep on my shoulder. My shirt is completely damp beneath his face, and the heat he is putting off is making me start to sweat. I've lost all feeling in my right arm, and I wish my broken left one would have the courtesy of doing the same. The pain is terrible, but I don't want to risk moving the kid.

"His fever's too high," I say finally, keeping my voice quiet. I don't think it will matter though. The kid is _out_. "His body is trying to fight off whatever Hydra put in him, but I don't think it's working. If his temperature gets any higher…"

I can't finish the thought, but Steve nods, understanding.

"Helen will know what to do," he says reassuringly. "If anyone can figure out what to do, it's her."

I don't disagree with him. Helen Cho's unmatched understanding of cell biology and genetics may be Peter's only hope in safely removing...whatever the hell it was. Speaking of-

"Where's Natasha at with those files?" I ask him. We will need all of the data Hydra kept on Muller's experiments, any information we can get our hands on that will help us figure out what it is and how to get rid of it.

"She's working on them now. They're encrypted, but with F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s help, Nat will be able to crack them open and get what we need," Cap replies, his gaze falling to my arm. "You should let me look at that."

"I'm sorry, did you become a doctor while you were off drinking coffee in Brazil?"

"It looks broken, Tony."

"It _is_ broken, Steve. And I'll have it looked at by someone with a medical degree when we get to the compound."

He sighs through his nose, shaking his head slightly and no doubt muttering under his breath about how I am so stubborn or hot-headed or something along those lines.

The kid stirs slightly, and I freeze as he lets out a quiet groan and shudders before slipping back to unconsciousness. I let out a breath, wincing as I try to shift my aching back without moving him. God, it sucks getting old.

I eye Cap's black uniform, singed at the chest over his heart and on his side. I nod towards him. "You should get those looked at too, when we get there."

"Sure, me and Bucky will get ourselves checked out by the doctors and move right on in. Ross will be thrilled," he responds, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Ross can go to hell," I lean my head back against the wall. I may have signed the accords, may agree with the man to a point about restrictions and accountability, but that didn't mean I liked him.

"Tony," Steve says, his voice utterly serious. "When we get there, you know Bucky and I will have to leave. We can't risk someone in the compound notifying Ross. You know what they will do to us."

I stare up at the ceiling, feeling every bit my age. I also feel every single hour of missed sleep come crashing down on me in a weary, heavy wave. I don't know that I've ever been so exhausted. Between the lack of sleep, the stress and anxiety while I wasted precious time hunting down Rogers and Barnes before finding the kid, the fighting that took place at the Hydra facility….I am completely beat. When all this is over, I am whisking Pepper away to Aruba for a month to do nothing but sleep, drink, and get massages on the beach.

"Yeah, I know," I say finally, wishing I didn't.

"Bucky told me what happened, after I left to find you," Steve begins hesitantly. My eyes snap back to him, immediately focused on what he is saying. "He said that it didn't take them long to take out the remaining Hydra agents, but when everyone was down...Peter attacked him, Tony."

"To be fair, the last time the two met, it wasn't exactly on friendly terms," I remind him.

"This was different," Steve argues. He turns his solemn gaze to Peter. "Even from what I saw...it's like he was a different person. Ruthless, brutal, like…"

"Like the Winter Soldier," I finish for him, feeling like I've been kicked in the gut. God _damn_ it. I know then, that I will always hate myself for not getting there sooner, for letting this happen in the first place.

"Bucky said that when he said the kid's name, that he came back to himself," Steve finishes. "Said that even though they encountered more Hydra agents in the hangar, the darkness didn't come back. Peter wasn't able to fight like that again."

I feel a stab of pain in my left arm and realize I had tried to curl my fingers into a fist. I wish so badly we could turn this jet around and slaughter all of those monsters a second time. Their deaths were too quick, too merciful for what they had done.

I say nothing for awhile, lost in my grim, contemptuous brooding.

"You should get some rest," Steve says finally, getting to his feet.

"You too," I murmur back, only half paying attention.

The kid's eyes had been full of such gratitude, such unwavering faith. I didn't deserve an ounce of it. I hadn't protected him, hadn't prevented this like I could have. Like I should have. And I hadn't gotten there in time to save him, not really.

And then comes a worse thought, the nagging fear at the back of my mind. What if Helen Cho can't find a way to fix him? What if the greatest minds of our time are unable to undo what Hydra had done to him?

I think of Barnes, forced to stay on ice so that he wouldn't hurt anyone else all the way in goddamn Wakanda. I get a flash of an image of the kid, small and pale, lying unconscious, locked away and frozen in a cryo-tube right next to Barnes.

God, what am I going to tell the kid's aunt?

Happy had told her that I had whisked Peter away on a highly covert, highly urgent mission of the world saving variety across the globe. That's why Peter hadn't told her anything the day he didn't come home from school, why he nor I were returning her phone calls.

I hadn't had the heart to tell her how thoroughly I had failed her, failed him. And now? If I wasn't able to fix him?

If I can't, if I can't free the kid of the monster Hydra put inside him?

I will deserve every bit of May Parker's wrath.

I may even give her the gun and help her pull the trigger.

* * *

 **Natasha Romanov**

"Making your rounds, Rogers?" I ask, without looking away from the holographic screens I have pulled up in front of me.

I feel his presence as he leans in closer, one hand on the back of my chair, the other coming to rest on the console. The smell of singed material fills my nostrils, and I have to resist the urge to crinkle my nose.

"How's it coming?" he asks instead of answering, and I know his blue eyes are scanning the screens for my progress.

"It's coming," I say dryly as my fingers fly over the keyboard. The truth is, the encryptions containing these files are the most difficult I have ever encountered. Whoever had created them was, and I admitted this only to myself, much smarter than I am. Luckily I have access to Stark's A.I., whose assistance is starting to pay off. "How are Stark and the kid doing?"

"See for yourself."

I pause, finally glancing up at those blue eyes, eyebrow raised, and he gestures behind himself with a nod of his head. I lean back in my chair, glancing back at where the pair is sitting against the wall of the jet. Both of them are passed out, the kid fast asleep and drowning beneath the gray trauma blanket, his head resting on Stark's shoulder. Tony's head is leaning back against the wall, his eyes closed and lips parted slightly as his chest rises and falls.

"Well, that's a Kodak moment if I ever saw one," I say, my lips quirking up slightly as I return my attention to the files. "I'm surprised you and Barnes aren't engaged in a similar position."

Steve snorts. "Let me know when you get anything."

He straightens, starting to step away, when suddenly I am through, the combined efforts of my expertise and the A.I.'s comprehension of decrypting highly classified security measures finally paying off. Both of us lean in at the same moment, our eyes flying over the mass amounts of data in a desperate rush.

"My god," he breathes beside me as disturbing images of Muller's failed experiments begin filling up the holographic screens to my right. I grimace, but my eyes focus on something else. Something that seizes my attention so thoroughly, I am frozen, suddenly and completely engrossed in what would appear to most as something obscure, something perhaps unimportant in light of all the files detailing Muller's experimentation.

Because this file details the funding of those experiments; the funding for the entire facility as well as what appears to be an endless amount of resources.

All under the name Elias Eklund.

Elias Eklund.

I frown at the name. Not because it sounds familiar to me. It doesn't. Of the thousands of names I have memorized of high ranking officials, billionaires, terrorists, and leaders of the criminal underground, it doesn't even come close to ringing a bell.

But I've done this long enough to know to trust my instincts. And my instincts are telling me to investigate this further.

Pressing my boots firmly on the floor of the cockpit, I turn the chair away from the Hydra files that Steve is engrossed with. I begin pouring through all the databases I have access to, and many that I don't. I am in and out of the world's most classified collections of data before they are even aware of my presence.

And then my suspicions are confirmed. Elias Eklund doesn't exist. It's an alias, a cover name complete with a rather impressive amount of falsified documents, and an unusually high number of Swiss bank accounts.

I pause for a moment to push a strand of blonde hair behind my ear. It seems like that is all there is to be found. But I know better. There is always a trail. _Always_. I just have to find it.

"What are you doing?"

"Following the white rabbit," I reply without looking back at Rogers. Then I am right in the thick of it, my eyes moving rapidly over the screens as I delve even deeper. This guy is good, so good in fact, that I almost miss it.

This guy is good.

But I am better.

Once I find the trail, it is an easy follow, jumping from alias to alias, organization to inconspicuous organization, until all the pieces fall into place like an elaborate puzzle, and I have my answer.

"Oh my god," the words slip quietly out of me before I can hold them back. Whatever I expected to find, it wasn't this.

"What is it?" I can feel Steve's eyes boring into me, but it's hard to find the words to explain the bomb that has just been dropped on all of us. There's no going back, not after this.

I turn in my chair, my slightly widened eyes the only bit of alarm I am willing to show him. "There was an observation deck in that laboratory. Muller was so confident in this trial being a success, he invited all of the sponsors, everyone who had a hand in putting that facility and team together. Everyone who had a hand in finding the perfect candidate."

He frowns. "I didn't see anyone trying to escape the facility. No suits, just scientists and soldiers."

"That's because by the time you got to the lab, they had already been warned that the facility had been infiltrated and headed out a hidden path to the hangar."

"Where are you going with this?"

I inhale deeply through my nose, trying to contain my shock, my horror, because I know Steve won't be able to. None of them will. "The man in charge of that entire facility, the one who provided them with their team and all of their resources, the one who gave them Peter Parker's name…"

Rogers stiffens, his jaw tight as he braces himself for what I am about to say.

"...is Secretary _Thaddeus Ross_."

* * *

 **A/N: THE END**

 **JUST KIDDING!**

 **lol! Still some more to go before I wrap up this story. I really want to thank every single reviewer! You guys are amazing, and I will get to my shout outs/replies here in a minute. But it really does make my day and make me want to write and post these chapters even sooner. Thanks to PippinStrange for being a constant source of support and inspiration, especially with her incredible story Down Came the Rain. Her Peter Parker, Tony Stark, and Aunt May are SO in character it is RIDICULOUS. Man! Don't worry guys, more answers and realizations to come with the next few chapters, and I hope you enjoyed this one! Please leave a review and let me know your thoughts!**

* * *

 **Guest123: Perhaps...lol! Official confirmation coming!**

 **SummerMistedDragon: :)**

 **Guest: I know, I put Peter through so much :( Poor kid**

 **story2tell: Thanks! lol!**

 **wolftattoo: the scenes at the compound are coming up!**

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* * *

 **New chapter hopefully coming soon. Everyone thank your beta PippinStrange and go send her and her story some love!**


	10. Carry on My Wayward Son

**A/N: OMG GUYS! Where did the time go? Sorry for the longer than usual wait for this chapter. Holidays and house projects and work literally took over my life. But here's a new chapter for you! I hope it is worth the wait, and I hope everyone had a FABULOUS Thanksgiving!**

* * *

 **Chapter Ten: Carry On My Wayward Son**

* * *

 **Steve Rogers**

I wince as I shift in the leather seat, the burns on my chest and side making the skin tight, raw, and no fan of movement. Helen Cho had tried to insist on using the Cradle to create new tissue to replace the burned ones, but I had politely declined. I was the last one that needed medical attention, and I would heal just fine on my own.

Now I am seated in a small waiting area at the entrance of the Avengers compound's medical wing. Bucky isn't too far off, and I can't help but notice he chose a corner seat that is facing the main entrance, and coincidentally, the only exit.

I don't blame him for being uneasy. _I_ am uneasy, and this place is as close to home as I had ever come. But Bucky and I are wanted fugitives now, and to be honest, I hadn't been sure I would ever be welcomed inside of this place again.

It's been several hours since we landed and rushed the teenager into Cho's capable hands, but it feels like it's been much longer. Every minute that passes that we sit here and do nothing makes me even edgier .

All of my plans to disappear the moment Stark and the kid were in safe hands had vanished the moment Natasha had uttered that name.

Thaddeus Ross.

My hands curl into fists.

This. This was the exact reason I had refused to sign the Sokovia Accords. I had learned from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s infiltration and downfall, but it seemed no one else had. I had been right. There were no safer hands than our own. But the others had chosen to place their trust, and the world's safety, in the hands of the United Nations, and in extension, to Secretary Ross himself.

There will always be corruption. Organizations like these just couldn't be trusted, not when it came to the protection of Earth, or apparently, to the safety of the Avengers themselves.

Though I had never trusted Ross, had never believed in the Accords, the betrayal is still a knife to the back. He had been seduced, like so many before him, by the so-called peace that Hydra was offering through their new world order. And then he had given them one of our own.

In that moment when Natasha had uncovered the truth, we had made the decision to wait to tell Tony. He was injured, dangerously sleep deprived, and completely on edge with everything that had happened with Peter. If we had told him then, it would likely have ended with disastrous results for everyone involved.

Before landing, Natasha had convinced Tony to make a few calls, which had nearly emptied the Avengers compound of all of its staff with the exception of Cho, a few trusted men and women from the medical team to provide what assistance they could, and of course, Vision, who had yet to be seen. It left the compound as safe as it could be for me and Bucky to remain without alerting Ross or anyone else of our whereabouts.

The doors to the medical wing open, and Natasha, now dressed in street clothes, the cut on her face neatly closed with a butterfly bandage, comes striding forward. I sit up straighter, anxious for news, and even Bucky looks up.

"No word yet on the kid," she admits. "But Tony finally let them take a look at his arm. He has minor fractures in his left radius and ulna, and they already have him in a brace. He's resting right now."

"Resting?" I raise a skeptical eyebrow at that.

"I...might have slipped him a sedative about an hour ago," Natasha admits, not looking even remotely apologetic. "Helen needs to be able to do her work in peace, and we need Tony back to, well, back to whatever counts as his normal, before we deal with...everything else."

"Did you give her the files?"

Natasha nods. "She has everything Hydra had on Muller's experiments and whatever they knew about what they put inside the kid. Now, we wait."

We lapse into silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts. My mind goes straight to the worst case scenarios, a habit that has proved impossible to break. If you know the worst that can happen, you can plan for it.

Whatever the Hydra scientists did could kill Peter, or turn him into their ultimate weapon, forcing us to take him down. Ross could get wind of our location, or guess it easily enough, and send an army to arrest us or destroy us in order to prevent word getting out about his association with Hydra. He could use the team imprisoned on the Raft as some kind of leverage or bait, or worse, he could decide the risk of keeping them alive is too high, and eliminate them before we can even set foot there.

"We need a plan," I say finally. "We can't just sit here and wait for Ross to retaliate."

Bucky glances over at us at my words, and rises to join us.

"I agree," Natasha says, "But we are going to need Stark on this one, and we aren't in any condition to start another fight, especially one on this level."

"The longer we stay here, the more time Ross has to organize an attack," Bucky argues. "We'll be playing into his hands. We need to strike now."

The doors to the medical wing open suddenly, and a short statured man with graying hair at his temples and deep set smile lines around his mouth comes forward, still clad in his surgical clothes. His eyes flit between all of us, lingering longest on Bucky, before he clears his throat and says, "He's out of surgery. Doctor Cho would like to see you all now."

* * *

 **Natasha Romanov**

We enter the conference room, my eyes darting to the wall of holographic screens portraying a myriad of diagrams, charts, and photographs, some of which contain the files I downloaded from the Hydra database. Then I look at Helen Cho, her dark hair pinned neatly back, save for twin strands that frame her solemn face.

She is trying to remain expressionless, and to an untrained eye, is doing a remarkable job. But I can read the anxiety in her overly straightened spine, the twitch of uncertainty at the corner of her lips, the barely visible clench of her jaw that reveals her hesitancy.

My stomach sinks, and I prepare myself for the worst.

"How is he?" Steve asks, his voice filled with concern.

Helen's lips part to answer, and the door to the conference room swings open, bouncing off the wall with a dull thud as Tony enters, a brace around his left forearm, and a large, steaming mug in his right hand.

"I thought you gave him a sedative," Steve murmurs, glancing between us.

I stare at the man in disbelief, even as he gives me a murderous look in return. "I did."

"You underestimated my liver's ability to siphon through pharmaceutical substances. Next time you try to drug me, _don't_ ," Tony's brown eyes cut into me as he stiffly knocks back whatever was in his mug. I can smell the rich aroma of very expensive coffee, but it has an undertone of something I can't place.

"Now, you were saying?" He turns to Helen, and we follow suit, apprehension lacing the air.

Vision chooses that moment to appear, his strange, synthetic skin covered by a pair of pale blue surgical scrubs, and walks straight through the wall to stand beside the scientist. His eyes roam quickly over each one of us before settling on me.

I tense, and I see the others follow suit as we all wonder the same thing. Not all of us were on the same side in Germany, and based on what I'd seen, Vision's moral compass had been rather firmly in place.

"We going to have a problem, here?" I ask him straight out, my voice low and tight with warning.

Vision's strange eyes are piercing as he cocks his head slightly to the side. "No, Miss Romanov, we are not. I have taken the liberty of going through the files you decoded, and assisted Doctor Cho in her examination and surgical procedure on Mr. Parker."

Rogers relaxes, and I see Vision give me a slight, imperceptible nod, his gaze knowing. If he had been as thorough as I think he had in his perusal of those files, it looked like Steve and I weren't the only ones aware of Ross's betrayal.

I glance quickly at Tony, whose dark gaze is still on the pair, and then give the android a small shake of my head, telling him very firmly with my eyes, not now, not yet.

"Peter is stable," Helen begins hesitantly after glancing at Vision. "His body has experienced a massive trauma, but with his accelerated healing abilities, he should make a full recovery. I found evidence of multiple tests performed on him, including a lumbar puncture, biopsies of his organs and bones, and genetic testing of his blood, the data of which was all recorded in the files you brought from the facility."

"Can we get to the main issue here, please?" Tony interrupts before she can go on. "Did you get that _thing_ out?"

I can see it in her eyes, her composure beginning to slip as she performs what is no doubt the worst aspect of her job: delivering the bad news.

"I was able to isolate the organism inside of him," she says, her voice getting heavier with each word. "But I cannot remove it."

"Why the hell not?" Stark sets his mug down gently, a surprising move, giving the tension lining his body. I had expected it to go flying across the room.

"It has…taken root inside his body," Helen explains. "The organism had started weaving itself through his central nervous system, his blood, his bones…It was well on its way to integrating itself into his brain. I was able to reverse most of the damage, to loosen the organism's hold in his body and reduce it to an isolated area in his chest, but it was a slow, intricate process. It has burrowed in deep, latched itself to his heart. Removing it will likely be fatal for both of them."

I see her words hit like a blow. Even the stoic Barnes is affected, though he barely lets it show beyond the slight curling of his fingers. Tony collapses into the nearest chair, like his legs are unable to hold his body up any longer. A hand, trembling ever so slightly, rubs across his forehead as he releases a long breath.

"What is it?" Steve asks finally.

Vision is the one to answer him this time. "A symbiotic alien life form, discovered several years ago by Hydra scientists at one of the crash sites from the Chitauri invasion. It is a parasite, entirely codependent on a host in order to survive. Doctor Heinrich Muller and the other scientists gave it a name: Venom."

He raises a burgundy colored hand to gesture at one of the screens. It shows a series of photographs, each one increasingly zoomed in. The first is merely what looks like a black speck in a petri dish, but the final slide shows a microscopic view of the alien organism, a mass of writhing black tendrils and jagged cells that look more like crystalline minerals than biological life.

"Jesus," Steve mutters under his breath.

"So you're telling me that an _alien parasite_ is inside of the kid, and removing it will _kill_ him? That's what—I'm just trying to wrap my head around this—that's what you're telling me right now?" Tony removes his hand from his face, letting it fall to his lap.

"Yes," Helen affirms with a frown. "I'm sorry, Tony. I wish I had better news to offer you. But I assure you, I won't stop working on this. Given time, if I can study the Hydra scientist's notes, do some thorough examinations and tests of my own on Mr. Parker and the parasitic organism, I may be able to find a way to separate them, but I can't promise you anything."

"Does the kid even have that kind of time?" Steve asks suddenly, and I watch as Tony's gaze jerks towards him. "If the alien is a parasite, won't it be...feeding off of him?"

Both of us wince at the same time at his choice of words, but Tony straightens, staring at Cho and waiting for her answer.

"I don't know," she admits.

"You don't know," Tony repeats in a slow deadpan, his tone dangerously low.

"Tony, none of us know exactly what we are dealing with here-"

"You have the goddamn files!" he stands, almost but not quite slamming his hands down on the table. "You have everything those psychotic bastards had, and you worked on the kid yourself! How could you _not know_?"

"Because those scientists did not understand what they were tampering with, not really," Vision cuts in, his voice stoic and reasonable. "They knew basic things about the alien life form they found; that it needed a host for survival, that it was dangerously strong and highly adaptive. They thought they could use it to create a weapon, when paired with their own brand of super soldiers."

More files are pulled up with a slight wave of Vision's hand, and I frown as I look upon the twelve photos and files of the dead Hydra soldiers, the ones Steve had been looking at on the quinjet.

"None of their attempts were successful, as each trial proved fatal. Something about Peter's genetic makeup, his altered DNA due to the radioactive spider bite he received, allowed Venom to successfully join with him."

"For the love of god, please get to the point," Tony says through clenched teeth.

"Tony, all those men and women _died_ when they tried to implant the parasite," Helen answers. "Peter is the first one to survive the joining. This is new, unprecedented territory here. We don't know what to expect. I don't have all the answers for you, but I will do my very best to get them for you. Until then, we will have to monitor him closely, make sure Venom doesn't start to spread again."

Tony's hand rubs the stubble surrounding his usually neatly groomed facial hair as he releases another strained sigh.

"I'd like to keep him here, at the compound, for observation and testing," Helen continues.

Roger's lips part like he's about to argue, but Tony beats him to it.

"I can't do that to him," he straightens, folding his arms over his chest. "He's a kid, Helen. A kid who was taken and tortured and locked up. I'm not going to lock him up here so we can do the same things to him."

Helen looks affronted. "I'm not-"

"-I know," Tony holds up his hand to stop her protests. "I know it would be different. That we are helping him where they hurt him. But he's a kid. He needs to go home to his Aunt. Go back to some kind of normal."

Helen nods. "Alright. But I'd like him here at least once a week, if not more, so I can monitor him and work on a solution. The bonding will likely have adverse side effects, and I can't help him or treat him if he isn't here."

"Fair enough," Tony agrees. "Where is he now?"

"I have him in one of the rooms near my office. He's heavily sedated. Should be for some time. But I'd like to check on him, if you don't have any more questions."

Stark nods, looking lost in thought.

"Thank you, Helen," Steve adds as the woman slips out the door. The room falls into a heavy silence as we process the news we'd just been delivered.

Stark looks...well, he's looked better. And though I hate the idea of being the one to convey even worse news than Helen had, I know the time is now. Tony doesn't have the luxury of being coddled, not on this. Not when the clock is ticking.

"Are you going to tell him, or should I?" Vision asks, breaking the silence and nodding towards Stark, who looks at him sharply.

"Tell me _what_?"

Here goes nothing.

"When I decoded those files, I was able to find the man behind everything; the funding of the Hydra facility, the resources provided to them, the hiring of Doctor Muller, and," I pause, taking a breath. "how they got Peter's name."

His voice is low, savage as he asks, " _Who_?"

"It's Ross, Tony," Steve answers wearily. "Secretary Ross is responsible for all of it."

Stark is frozen, his expression unchanging as he pales before the blood comes rushing back to his face. I see a vein on his forehead begin to pulse, his pupils dilating slightly as he finally turns his gaze from me to Steve.

"The files," Vision supplies helpfully, swiping away everything on Venom and bringing up the trail I followed on Elias Eklund as well as several more I hadn't had the chance to delve through yet. "Peter Parker has apparently been a person of interest for quite some time, even before he became Spiderman. He was one of the millions of people Hydra tagged and targeted with Doctor Zola's algorithm before you wiped it out of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database and took down the helicarriers three years ago."

He nods towards Steve and I, and I see Barnes tense as he stares at the files. He had played a large, albeit unwilling, role in launching the algorithm that would have killed all those people if Steve and I hadn't stopped him.

Steve's brow furrows. "That information was deleted. Natasha unleashed all of Hydra's secrets onto the internet that day, but those targeted by the algorithm were wiped from the system completely."

"Not all of it," VIsion negates. "While Miss Romanov was uploading that data, a Hydra agent must have slipped through and restored some of those files. Secretary Ross, and by extension, Hydra, has been watching those few named by the algorithm very closely ever since, including Mr. Parker."

"And when they saw their chance to take him, they took it," I add speculatively, stepping close. "But why did they wait so long? Why didn't they try to take the kid before he was recruited to fight in Germany? Or try to eliminate him before he became Spiderman?"

"That was probably their initial plan," Bucky finally speaks, looking like every word he speaks is an effort. "They would have named him as a threat, not a potential weapon for their arsenal, especially when he got involved with the Avengers."

"But when all of their experiments with Venom failed, Ross saw him as a candidate instead," Steve continues, looking grim. "If he survived, they'd have a new weapon to use against us. If he died-"

"-one less hero in the way," I finish.

Tony has been silent this entire time, despite the revelations that had just been thrust upon him. He's staring off at the far wall, his body coiled so tight I can see his muscles quivering.

"Tony?" I say softly.

He doesn't respond.

"Tony," I say again, stepping into his line of sight. When his brown eyes finally meet mine, I nearly flinch at the unbridled rage simmering there.

"I'm going to kill him," he promises, his voice heavy in its quiet savagery.

Before I can warn him not to, Vision says, "That is highly unadvisable."

Tony whirls, a promise of murder in his eyes as the android foolishly continues. "Murdering Secretary Ross will not accomplish anything, other than making those of us who are not already wanted fugitives criminals as well."

"He's _Hydra_. He gave those monsters the kid and let them put that goddamn alien parasite inside of him," Tony seethes.

"Killing him will not change anything," Vision persists, infuriatingly calm. "I agree that his betrayal is abhorrently substantial, but taking his life won't change what has happened to the boy, and despite what you think at this moment, it will not make you feel any better."

Tony stalks forward, halting only at Steve's hand on his shoulder. He looks like he might snap at Rogers for a moment as well, but Steve says, "Whether or not he deserves to die is something we can discuss later. We need to move quickly. He's likely guessed that we returned to the compound. Getting the others out of the Raft is our number one priority. We get them out, then we get Ross."

We all wait for Tony's response, and I swear I can actually see his blood boiling.

"Fine, we do it your way for now. But on one condition."

Tony's eyes darken about three shades. "Ross is _mine_."

* * *

 **A/N: Holy cow you guys, I can't believe we are nearing the end here! I can tell you all that there is only ONE more chapter left in this story. One. :O**

 **I know, I can't believe it either. But! Good news is, it's halfway written, so I should post it very soon! Also, THERE WILL BE A SEQUEL! I promise! I've already written some scenes for it and have TONS of ideas. I am also working on a realistic charcoal drawing that will be the cover story for my sequel, and I am super proud of it. If you'd like to see my progress so far, check out my instagram! I am mscrystalbeard :) I can't say when I will start posting the sequel, as the holidays are here and things are only going to get crazier! I may also take a break to work on some original work for a little bit while writing here and there for the sequel. I will keep you posted! So make sure, if you haven't already, to follow me as an author so you get an alert for when I post the sequel!**

 **So I totally wasn't going to have Vision in this, but he sort of just phased through a wall and into my story! XD He does that often, I guess.**

 **As always, please send love to your incredible beta, PippinStrange, who has written the BEST Avengers/Spiderman fan fiction on the website! Like guys, she is the reason I started writing fan fiction for this category, and is such a support and encouragement and incredible writer, that I couldn't do this without her. GO READ HER STORY Down Came the Rain RIGHT NOW!**

 **ALSO CHECK THIS OUT! PippinStrange, being the insanely talented and wonderful beta she is, created a MOVIE TRAILER FOR THIS STORY! It is INSANE how awesome it is. Like, I may have teared up, and squealed, and watched it a million times. Here is the link below, just copy and paste, add a . com and delete the spaces. Hopefully this works, because I have never posted a link to a chapter here before, so let me know if it does or doesn't work in your reviews. And then message her or leave her love here to tell her how incredible it is!**

 **www. youtube watch?v= TqWlBlVA9Q4 &feature= **

**THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR YOUR REVIEWS! I'm sorry for all the caps, but I am just blown away by your support and kind words and thoughts and it makes me SO happy. Seriously, it makes me want to write alllll the time. MUCH LOVE!**

* * *

 **Phoenixhp5: Thank you! Sorry this wasn't a quick update like the others, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway! I'm glad you loved the comfort and awkwardness that was Tony and Peter, as I really enjoyed writing it!**

 **Nathissica: Omg thank you! I can't tell you how much I love hearing that, and how happy it makes me that you are that invested in this story. Seriously THANK you! :) That comment made my day!**

 **dragon-et-lion: Thanks! :)**

 **gandalf537: Thank you so much!**

 **BeautifulKnight: Wow, what a compliment! Thank you so much! :D**

 **Shoyzz: You were right! Tony is PISSED. Thank you SO much for your reviews and your amazing sketches! Once you are done with finals and post them on tumblr, be sure to let me know so I can share them with all these awesome people! They are SO good. YOU ARE AMAZING!**

 **Guest: You are so welcome! Thanks for the reviews! I hope so too!**

 **Thespianpoet: Lol! I love that it was such a big plot twist for everyone that no one saw coming! Makes me so happy!**

 **Guest: Agreed! Ross sucks!**

 **DarylDixon'sLover: Right?**

 **Amanda Lili: thank you!**

 **FrostedFeathers: WOW! Thank you! Tony isn't always the easiest to write, so thank you SO much for your compliments on how I write him! Trying to keep everyone in character is really important to me. Thank you so much for your review!**

 **wolftattoo: yeah, Ross is in deep shit now!**

 **Agatha: Happy Thanksgiving! :) Thank you so much for your kind words!**

 **SummerMistedDragon: :D**

 **monkeybaby: Thanks!**

 **PippinStrange: I still can't get over how horrible that movie was that you watched! I am so glad I could help make you feel better, and even MORE glad you were there for me to rant about my terrifying experience while babysitting! XD and OMG thank you for always saying the best things that make my heart and ego swell! lol! YOU ARE THE BEST!**

 **MultipleFandomGirl123: Thank you so much!**

 **xxxLeanniexxx: Right? He's AWFUL! I couldn't resist making him even worse because I can't stand him!**

 **heartbreakerninja: FOR SURE! Worst of the worst! I also look forward to the takedown! ;)**

 **whimsicalbubbles: Thanks! :) Sorry this update took longer!**

 **gammathetaalpha: Thank you so much! I love hearing that the characters are written in character, as that is definitely something I strive for. Thank you for the review!**

* * *

 **THANKS GUYS! See you at the final chapter!**


	11. Down Came the Rain

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my friend and beta, PippinStrange, who I could not have done this without. I titled it "Down Came the Rain" in honor and tribute to her incredible story, my absolute favorite in this genre/category. FIFFERS 5EVER!**

* * *

 **Down Came the Rain**

 **...**

 **Peter Parker**

I am probably going to be yelled at for disobeying the doctor's orders to remain in bed to rest. But at the moment, I can't bring myself to care. I couldn't take one more minute in that bed, in that small, windowless room, surrounded by those monitors and medical equipment and needles and—

I shudder involuntarily, taking a deep breath through my nose to calm my rapid heartbeat.

This. This is much better.

I sit facing the massive wall of windows in one of the main halls of the Avengers Compound, perched on one of the many, oddly shaped ottomans, that I'm not entirely sure are meant to be sat on. They look like gray, misshapen puzzle pieces, scattered along the large corridor amongst the potted plants, and I honestly can't tell if they are just decoration, or functional seating.

Oh well. I'm already going to get lectured for being out of bed, might as well add sitting on expensive, weird modern décor to the list.

The clouds outside are a swirl of grays, muddled by the rivulets of water running down the glass. The rain patters against the wall of windows in a steady, rhythmic pattern, a soothing white noise as well as a much needed reminder that I am not trapped underground.

I pull my legs closer to my chest, wrapping my arms around them and resting my chin on my knees as I stare out at the rain. The t-shirt and sweatpants I am wearing are soft, warm, but I wish I had thought to take a blanket from my bed in the medical wing with me. The temperature of the compound is toasty and pleasant, but I am nearly trembling from the cold. The chill emanates deep under my skin, sending shivers of ice skittering through my blood.

I wonder if I will always be cold now.

It's a bleak thought, especially knowing that my body had always run warm, even before I was bitten by a radioactive spider. The cold will be a constant reminder of what had happened to me, what is still burrowed inside of my chest.

I let out a long, slow breath through my nose as I stare bleakly at the rain.

I want Aunt May.

I've wanted her so badly ever since I had been taken, and the thought of being able to hug her again, to laugh with her again had been one of the few things that had kept me going. And when I'd woken up here in the compound, and Doctor Cho had explained to me what she'd been able to do, and what she hadn't….I'd never wanted May more. A reassuring hug or squeeze of her hand, a brush of her fingers through my hair as she told me it would be alright, god, I'd wanted it so badly I thought I would end up crying in front of the doctor.

All I want is to go home and pretend like none of this happened, but how can I?

How can I face my Aunt with this…. _thing_ inside me? How can I look her in her big, worried eyes, and tell her what I went through, what darkness I faced? How can I do that to her?

The answer is, I can't. Or I won't.

Either way, it's not happening.

I can't stand what it will do to her, the knowledge that I was taken and tortured and experimented on, and not even one of the greatest scientists in the world can fix me. It would break her heart. And the guilt would probably kill me.

No, I can't tell her. Not yet. Not now. Maybe…maybe eventually.

Until then, I'll have to go along with the cover story Happy had concocted, that Mr. Stark had needed my help to save the world with the other Avengers, and it had been too urgent and too dangerous to tell her I had to go. Better to deal with her anger, with her worry, than to tell her the truth. It was bad enough I have to deal with the horrors of the past week, I won't let her face them too.

I shiver again, hugging my knees tighter to my chest.

The sliver of ice inside of me pulses very faintly in response.

I clench my teeth, briefly squeezing my eyes shut before opening them again to stare out at the rain.

An alien, I remind myself, as if saying it in my head will make it sound more real. That thing they put inside of me is an alien, a parasite that had made my body its new home. It's bizarre and horrible and unbelievable. It is weirder and freakier than going from average high school nerd to web slinging superhero.

An alien, I say to myself again as a gust of wind loudly batters a fresh onslaught of rain against the windows. An alien is _inside_ of me.

Doctor Cho said they called it Venom.

She had been nice, the pretty doctor lady. She'd actually seemed genuinely sorry to deliver such crap news to me when I had woken up from surgery. Doctor Cho, who had insisted I call her Helen, but I hadn't been able to, had promised me that she wouldn't stop working until she figured out a solution, a way to get that thing out of my chest. She'd study it, study me, do tests and trials until she found a way to safely remove it. She wasn't giving up on me.

Nausea clenches my gut at the thought of more poking and prodding and tests and doctors. I'd had just about enough of that for a lifetime.

And it's hard to feel hope, when all I can feel is the cold.

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, my skin prickles as all of my senses are suddenly on high alert. My body tenses, my fingers digging into my calves.

I am not alone.

My head whips to the left as I prepare to move, my heart thundering inside of my chest as panic seizes my gut—

It's the Winter Soldier.

I blink at the man as he descends the staircase, his dark hair framing his stoic face, his blue eyes watching me with an unreadable expression. My body remains tense as he makes his way down the last few steps and strides towards me, but my initial panic begins to dissipate.

I watch him, wide-eyed, lips clamped shut as he stops a few feet away next to another oddly shaped ottoman, and sits down. The man leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he simply stares out at the rain.

Huh.

I watch him awkwardly for a few more minutes, wondering if he will speak, or if I should, or if he'd decided this was _his_ brooding spot, and I should leave him to it and go find somewhere else. But he doesn't speak, and I'm not getting any 'get lost, kid' vibes. His body is relaxed as he watches the rain hit the glass and drench the quinjet out there on the pavement.

Should I say something?

What the hell would I say?

 _How 'bout this weather we're having?_

Or

 _Hey, thanks for rescuing me from Hydra even though most of what happened after they started electrocuting me is really fuzzy and hard to remember?_

Or

 _Sorry I tried to take you down in Germany, but thanks for saving my ass anyways?_

Not talking. Not talking would be best.

Slowly, jerkily, I look away from him and back out the window.

After several tense minutes, my body slowly begins to relax again, my grip on my legs loosening and my heartbeat returning to normal as I am lulled once again by the white noise of the storm. Neither of us speak, and so the two of us just sit there, watching the rain. The silence goes from awkward, to companionable. I'm not sure why, or how, but it does.

And it's kind of nice.

We sit there in silence for so long, I jump slightly when he speaks, even though his voice is quiet and rumbling. If I didn't have enhanced hearing, I might not have been able to hear him over the rain.

"It doesn't go away."

I glance at him sharply, my brows furrowing in question. The man turns his head from the window to look at me. "That feeling, like they took something from you that you can't get back? It doesn't go away."

My stomach sinks, and my throat is instantly dry.

"It…it doesn't?"

He shakes his head. "No."

If this is him trying to comfort me, the man could use a few lessons, I think bitterly as I tear my eyes away to look back at the rain. All he's doing is drudging up the emotions I'd been working hard at suppressing. I can feel them all pressing in around me, the feelings of helplessness, of shame, of feeling so _violated_ , so damaged, that maybe I am beyond repair in more ways than one.

"I'm not going to tell you that it's all going to be okay," he continues anyways. "Or promise that you'll be fine."

"No offense, but what the hell _are_ you going to tell me?" I say finally, looking at him. "Because I'm not so sure I wanna know."

"The truth," he says simply.

"Oh."

I'm honestly not sure how to respond to that.

"You can still feel it inside of you, right?" he asks, his blue eyes dropping to my chest.

"Yeah."

"Good."

"Um, _good_? How is that in any way good?" I ask incredulously.

Gray blue eyes bore into mine. "Because I _can't_ feel the darkness inside of me. It's there, all the time, ready to surface at a moment's notice. But I can't fight back against it, can't even try. One minute it's buried, the next it's like a switch flips off, and I'm gone."

He pauses, like he wants to make sure I really understand what he's trying to say. "If you can feel the darkness, you can fight it."

I blink at him. It…makes sense, actually. Enough so I feel something like hope spark within me. If I can feel it, I can fight it. And maybe…just maybe, I can win. Oddly enough, his words _had_ been comforting, because they'd been real.

The Winter Soldier turns his eyes to the storm, but I keep watching him. I don't know much about him, to be honest, just a very brief, hurried synopsis from Happy before the fight in Germany. That he'd been Captain America's friend, and they'd fought together. That everyone had thought he died, but he hadn't. He'd been taken by Hydra and tortured and brainwashed until there seemed like there was nothing left.

The rest was all a little fuzzy, and I wish now I had taken the time to ask more questions, to learn more about who I was fighting that day, and why.

Because I realize, if anyone could understand what I went through, if anyone knows how I am feeling, it's the man sitting next to me.

And suddenly, I feel a little less alone.

"Thanks," I say, and mean it. "Um...Mr. Soldier...sir."

Way to ruin a moment, Parker.

He doesn't look over at me, but I swear I see the corner of his lips quirk up.

"Call me Bucky, kid."

* * *

 **Bucky Barnes**

I don't know what possessed me to stop and speak to the kid while the others were making the preparations to leave. I had no intentions of doing so, just happened to catch sight of him curled in on himself down on the lower level, just watching the rain and looking so...lost.

Steve would have done a better job offering him comfort; the big brother looking out for the little guy, assuring him that it would be alright. I'd probably just made things worse. But seeing what Hydra had done to him, seeing how young and afraid he was, struck something dark and familiar within me, and I had to at least offer what I could.

I leave him to his thoughts, and as I make my way back up the stairs to the second level, I catch sight of a stone faced Tony Stark waiting for me at the top, his broken arm in a sling and one of his hands curling tightly around the railing.

I steel myself, inwardly preparing for the confrontation that was undoubtedly about to happen. There will be threats, warning me to stay the hell away from the kid. He may even make good on his promise in Wakanda to have me murdered, or at the very least pummeled by the bionic arm he had built for me.

Stark's eyes drift briefly to the teenager huddled below before snapping back to me and gesturing silently with a jerk of his head that I am to follow him.

He leads me across the wide landing down a narrow hall and through a set of doors to a long corridor, framed on either side by more wall sized windows. Stark certainly liked his views.

The billionaire stops, turning abruptly to face me, his brown eyes boring into mine. His lips part, and I tense inwardly, readying to face his wrath. My metal fingers curl in on themselves automatically, as if anticipating his desire to have them curl around my throat.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., have Happy collect the kid from the lobby and take him back to bed," he says without breaking eye contact.

" _Yes, boss_."

He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing as he considers me.

"God, I can't stand you," Stark says finally.

I stare. This isn't exactly news.

"I'm just being honest here. You have a broody, silent but deadly vibe going on that I just don't have the time or patience for. I really think that even if none of this had happened, and you didn't end up as a girly haired, brainwashed, friend stealing, murderous maniac, I _still_ wouldn't like you."

"I was friends with Steve first," are the words that come out of my mouth. Why that was the part I had focused on, I have no idea. God, we sound like we are twelve.

He ignores that. Stark's eyes are hard as he stares me down with all that built up wrath raging inside of him. "I will never, _ever_ , forget the image of what you did to my parents. I will never be able to look at you and not see the man who beat my father and choked the life out of my mother."

I stand there, taking every word thrown at me, knowing I deserve every bit of his hate for what I did.

He straightens. "That being said, I have to say thank you."

I stare, positive that I misheard.

Stark sighs, looking more annoyed now than pissed. "When I saw you down there with the kid, my first thought was to strangle you with your own arm. But I heard what you said, saw what it did. Without your help, the kid would be dead, or worse. And seeing what they did to him… it forces me to acknowledge what was done to you, and I am really not a fan of being forced to do anything, so that also counts against you."

I remain silent, both stunned by his words and wary for where this is going. The man turns his words around so fast it's giving me whiplash.

"The point I'm trying to make here, is that I still think you're a world class douche bag, but you saved the kid. He didn't ask to be taken and tortured and turned into a weapon. And neither did you."

If I'm not crazy, I think this is as close to an apology or truce that Tony Stark will ever come. I'm almost afraid to speak, worried I will ruin it, and he will try to kill me again. He's offering me something here, as much as he is able to give. I'd be a fool not to take it. So I nod.

"This doesn't make us friends," he gestures between us with his good arm. "We're not going to hug this out and sing kumbaya and start a boy band. I still think you're a monochromatic son of a bitch."

"And I still think you're a swaggering, narcissistic ass."

"I've been called worse."

"So have I."

"Glad we're on the same page," Stark holds out his hand. "Allies?"

I grip it firmly. "Allies."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you two were getting along," Steve's voice sounds from our right. We both let go of the other's hand and turn to look at him.

Stark rolls his eyes slightly. "Hardly, boy scout. We've...come to an understanding, that's all. So quit looking so smug."

Steve looks far more bewildered than he does smug, but I don't say anything.

"Vision is finished loading up the gear, and Nat is firing up the quinjet," he informs us, trying to reel in his wariness and surprise. "They're waiting for us now."

"Perfect," Stark says. "Just one more order of business then."

He turns abruptly, striding for a massive case leaning against the wall that I hadn't even noticed was there. It clicks open, and Stark reaches inside it before turning, a red, white, and blue shield in his uninjured hand.

"This belongs to you," he says, turning it sideways and tossing it towards Steve with a flick of his wrist. Steve's eyes are wide as he catches it with ease, staring at the shield for a long moment as Stark continues. "It was never my father's. That bastard always intended it to be yours. I never should have taken it."

Steve's expression is hard as his grip on it tightens.

"It's yours, if you want it," Stark amends. "If you want to take up the mantle of Captain America again."

Steve is silent, and for a moment, I think he will decline. But then he looks up, his eyes determined and fierce. "I thought I was ready to put it all behind me, that wearing the stars and stripes meant that I was defending the decisions and actions of a government I no longer agreed with."

His lips curve into a small smile as he looks at the shield. "But Captain America is about defending the people," he looks up. "Defending _our_ people. And I think it's time the world was reminded of that."

"Good to have you back, Cap," Stark says, and from the tone of his voice, I know he means it. "Now if we are all finished having our little moment here, we have work to do."

Steve slings his shield across his back, and my spine straightens as we both look towards him.

Stark's chin lifts, his eyes blazing as he says, "Let's go get our people."

...

...

 **THE END**

* * *

 **A/N: I can't believe it guys. I can't believe we are at the end! Wow! What a wild ride! Thank you SO MUCH for sticking with me! Your reviews and support have honestly blown me away. There aren't enough words to express my gratitude! Stick around to the end to find out more about the sequel!**

 **YES, THERE WILL BE A SEQUEL! There's NO way I can leave it as is. I am not done with these characters or this story line, not by a long shot! I will most likely be taking a break from writing during the holidays, as well as to work on some personal projects. But, I definitely will be working on this on the side, and once I have a solid outline and several chapters written, I will start posting the sequel! So, to make sure you don't miss an update from me, make sure you are following me as an author and not just this story so you get an alert when I start posting the sequel!**

 **I am also working on some fan art for the sequel's cover. I am doing a charcoal drawing of Peter and Venom, and it is going to be EPIC! If you'd like to see my work in progress, head to my instagram mscrystalbeard**

 **TRAILER: In regards to the movie trailer PippinStrange made for this story, I saw that many of you couldn't watch it. I'm sorry! This site is so weird about links and I don't know what I am doing. lol. So try number two! Try using this, but deleting the parenthesis and putting actual dots instead of the word dot, and see if that works! Also, those are lower case Ls, not capital Is. (www).(youtube) (watch?v=TgWlBlVA9Q4 &lc=) **

**Complicated, I know, but I promise you SO worth it! A couple people also left reviews with tips on how to do it, so if that doesn't work, maybe check that out! Or, if all else fails, private message me on instagram: mscrystalbeard or tumblr: horcrux7750 and I will send you the link myself!**

* * *

 **REVIEW REPLIES**

 **Guest123: It was! Yes! Thank you so much! No plans to stop writing! Hope to see you for the sequel!**

 **DarylDixon'sLover: Thanks! Clint is unfortunately imprisoned on the raft with some of the other Avengers. :( I know, I love him too. Wanted him in this story, but we gotta bust him out first! He may make an appearance in the sequel ;) Tune in to find out!**

 **shivrashi: I know, the last chapter took me forever! Glad it was worth the wait! :)**

 **Guest: Thanks!**

 **Shoyzzz: Thank you so much! I loved Tony's line there as well. XD As for Venom... you'll find out. ;) Lots of unanswered questions will be dealt with in the sequel for sure! Thank you for all of your kind reviews and your fan art! I am seriously so blown away and excited about it! You are amazing! I also LOVE hearing all of your thoughts, so don't apologize for rambling! lol!**

 **MewWinx96: You were correct! Venom all the way! Sorry the link gave you so many issues, and I totally agree with you on the Ariel font! Major trust issues! lol! Thank you for all your reviews and hope to see you for the sequel!**

 **monkeybaby: thank you so much!**

 **Collie: Thanks! I am excited to get the team back together, and I am a sucker for protective Tony as well!**

 **Crimson47: thank you so much! Sorry about the link! :( I hope this works! If not, please message me and I will try to get it to you because it is amazing!**

 **EmotionallyConstipatedOops: Thanks!**

 **Modern Demigod Hero: Thank you!**

 **SummerMistedDragon: :D**

 **Phoenixhp5: I know, poor Peter! I am awful to him. lol. He has quite the journey ahead of him too. I am also looking forward to some major ass kicking in the sequel!**

 **Guest Whisper: Thank you so much for taking the time to review! It really means a lot. And thank you for trying to help others view the trailer! I hope it all works this time!**

 **gandalf537: THANK YOU! Loved the MARVELous comment! XD Hope to see you for the sequel!**

* * *

 **Seriously, thank you all again for alllllll of your reviews, and please let me know what your thoughts are for this chapter, as well as your thoughts/hopes for the sequel!**

 **PLEASE send love to your incredible beta, and one of the best writers out there, PippinStrange. Big round of applause everybody! Without her, this story would not exist, and I would also be very sad and fangirling all by myself in a corner somewhere. XD Seriously though, go check out her work and give her a big thank you for all that she does!**

 **SEQUEL: LOTS to expect in the sequel, including MANY more Avengers, a certain Aunt who has been absent this entire story, more of Ned and MJ, and a dark descent as Peter deals with the alien parasite Venom while trying to find some kind of normal after his kidnapping and torture in the Hydra facility. Also, MAJOR ass kicking, epic fight scenes, and lots of heart to hearts! This sequel will have it all, and I can't wait to really get into writing it for you guys!**

 **MUCH LOVE!**

 **~Queen~**


	12. Author's Note

**Attention faithful viewers!**

I wanted to let all of you know, in case you forgot to follow me as an author on this site, that I just posted the first chapter of the sequel to this story!

Yep, you heard right! Or…I guess it would be read right, wouldn't it?

Anyways, I had every intention of waiting to work on this story, but my muse wouldn't allow it. So here is a short summary for you:

Peter Parker was rescued from Hydra's clutches, but not without great cost. Tony Stark and the Avengers work desperately to find a way to remove the alien parasite, Venom, from the teen before it consumes him entirely, Peter struggles to fight against his dark descent, all the while Hydra lurks, eagerly waiting to reclaim their investment.

So click on my icon there to head to my profile page, and the first chapter of the sequel should be there today! Enjoy, guys! I am so excited for you to read it!

 **Queen**


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